


The Little Things

by Gee_Writes



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Nanny, Cooking, Crayons, Family Dinners, Gen, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, M/M, Scars, Swimming Pools, Talking, Vomiting, kites, mild descripion of injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 08:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3127616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gee_Writes/pseuds/Gee_Writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurapika had suggested it, initially; finding work as a sitter – he never thought he'd enjoy it as much as he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt fill [Nanny/Single Parent AU](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2824139/chapters/6335618)

When he had started, it was mostly to pay his rent.

Because, as much as he loved the animal shelter, and his community tree-planting group, neither of those were actually earning him any money. His hours at the supermarket stacking shelves were always getting rescheduled, and even after working nights most weekdays, and every weekend, he was barely making enough to keep the lights on. It was a good thing Palm always invited him over for meals, otherwise Gon was sure he'd be dead by now.

Kurapika had suggested it, initially; finding work as a sitter – it was a lot less physical in the long run, and minimum rates were generally higher too. Kids were, he thought, a lot like being around the foxbear cubs again – wild balls of energy who vied for attention wherever they could get it. And the honest, simple look of a country boy was one parents had no problem trusting. It was a fun first few months – he joined an agency, cycled between a half dozen kids, and made a pretty good wage.

Suzie, Kolton, Zeffel, Izumi, Reina and Gordon.

Suzie liked her hair tied in exactly symmetrical pigtails, Kolton had a habit of sticking marbles up his nose, Zeffel cried non-stop for the first 3 days his parents left, Izumi spoke three different languages at home, Reina would put on a concert in the living room at least twice a day, and Gordon's best friend was his gerbil, Squisher.

All of them were fairly different, but sooner than not, Gon had befriended each and every one. He listened to them, indulged them – happy, playful, easy to understand. His reputation was good, and even the agency management were impressed with parent feedback; the glowing reports from couples who had otherwise rejected others wholeheartedly.

It was, then, nearly inevitable for the change.

It was full hours, every day of the week, for an exorbitant amount of money. They had wanted the best person in the agency's employ, and naturally, Gon had been the first choice. It had been hard leaving behind the other kids – saying goodbye properly, with runny noses and tears aplenty – but, it had been less of a choice on Gon's part, and more an insistence of both the agency and his new employer.

Which is how Gon found himself looking at one of the tallest apartment buildings he'd ever seen; classy and cutting-edge, artwork of steel and glass.

There was a security guard posted at the door, eyes shifting Gon's way as he scanned the apartment buzzers, looking for the corresponding number from his print-out of instructions. Apartment 99 was way at the end, only one floor down from the penthouse, apparently. The low tone crackled over the speaker as he pressed it, cutting off to an even lower voice.

“Yes?”

“I'm here about the job looking after, uh,” scanning the page again, “Zilsa Zoldyck?”

“You must be the new nanny; it is only your first day, but in future, please try to arrive on time.” Eyes to his watch, 8:03, three minutes late. “I'll let you in, and then run through your duties with you. Hopefully, you'll be up for the task; as this is _not_ a job to be taken lightly.” Gon could feel himself bristling, but held himself back; if for no other reason than wanting to prove this jerk wrong.

Another low buzzer and the electric doors slid open, a peaceful foyer ahead. Waving to the security guard on his way in, Gon found himself in front of awaiting elevator doors, open and inviting. It was barely a second before he was in and moving, white light glowing for his destination, 99.

Whether his stomach dropped because of the movement or his belated nerves, he still wasn't quite sure.

In the incredibly quick half minute it took to get to the second-most top floor, Gon had already reconsidered the job 4 times, and was midway through the fifth, when the opening doors signalled the end of his journey. The cool air of the air conditioning gave him a slight reprieve before he found himself faced with an incredibly stern looking man; dark suit, dark eyes, and a very dark expression.

“You are Gon Freecss, correct? 24; living at unit 405, Zaban Street; birthday May 15th?” The quick fire questions were well practiced, the older clearly assessing for the slightest slip-up. Those dark eyes, watching carefully.

“My birthday is the 5th, actually.” Steeling himself, he didn't expect the other to withdraw with a _smile;_ still assessing him, but a lot more thoughtfully than before.

“Good,” the other offered after another moment, “I am Gotoh, head butler to the Zoldyck family; please come this way.”

And for the first time since his arrival, Gon was aware of how _expensive_ the place was. Not that it should have been a surprise; but it was a level of wealth Gon couldn't even have imagined before this point.

“Usually, the butlers are in charge of looking after the young Masters and Mistresses, but Master Killua - young Zilsa's father - has made it _apparent_ that he is unhappy with our methods. Please keep in mind that you are here at his request,” turning to Gon, sleek and precise. “You are now in his employ.” The _so act like it_ implicitly implied.

As they walked, he was a little afraid to touch anything, his fingerprints threatening to mar the perfect shine of cleanliness. And again, he reconsidered; this place was _not_ for him – worried that somehow his breath was making the air less clean, his footsteps ruining the atmosphere. And God forbid he _broke_ something; that'd probably leave his great-grandchildren in debt.

Gotoh was thorough in his explanations – demonstrating where everything was kept, when everything should be used – meals, naps, recreational time; nothing was left uncovered.

And once the butler had outlined everything he could about Zilsa's daily schedule, he led Gon to the final door; another stern look before opening it, a flickering intensity in his eyes.

“Young Master Zilsa is the most important person in Master Killua's life; it is _imperative_ that he is happy and treated well. Those were his only instructions, so make sure to follow them with your life.”

And despite every other overwhelming thing that morning, happy was something Gon  _ knew _ he could do. That no matter how wealthy, kids were kids; and kids  _ liked _ Gon. It was something he appreciated being reminded of.

And when Gon was let into his room, he was sitting up in the small bed, expectant. Hair white, fluffy looking and probably soft to the touch; big eyes, a pale shade of mint, blinking between the stranger and the butler.

He was frowning a bit now, in the way only five-year-olds can; mouth puckered and pinched to the side, a small wrinkle in his brow. Small hand gripping at his blanket. Less angry, more unfamiliarly curious.

“Gotoh, who's that?”

Hand at his back and pushed a little farther into the room, he followed.

“His name is Gon, Young Master,” a softer tone than he'd had all morning. “Your father has asked him to look after you from today onwards.”

Seemingly happy with that, he just nodded his little head once; scooting a bit to face back to Gon. The pattern on his pyjamas folding and warping with the movement; a socked foot peeking out as he readjusted his position.

“So you're my friend now?” And the simple question felt heavy, heavier than any kindergartener should be able to achieve. Round green eyes, painted with hope. And the smile Gon found himself wearing was the softest he could remember – not as big as usual, but one that filled his heart to the brim.

“Yep. My name's Gon, what's yours?”

And the absolute delight that short sentence caused, the way he lit up in complete joy, grabbed somewhere deep in Gon's heart. Pushing out his doubts and reconsiderations, Gon knew he'd stay working here. Couldn't let the smile he was given ever fall away because of him. And it was with that in mind that he beamed back, encouraging; knowing that they'd get along.

“I'm Zilsa!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, thank you for reading!
> 
> This was an accumulation of reader interest, as well as somewhere to focus my fluffy sensibilities in between working on my other current fics. I do hope you enjoy.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Gon did once Gotoh had left was release the huge sigh of relief he'd been holding. Little hand in his, the two just looking to the elevator a moment longer than really necessary. His arm swinging, pulling Gon's attention back.

Looking down, he was met with a brilliant smile; toothy and wide, eyes squeezed shut. Pulling a little on their joined hands, Gon was quick to crouch down, face to face with his new charge.

“D'jyou know how to make pancakes?” Green eyes open now, hopeful, excited.

“Yeah, I do. Is that what you want for breakfast?” Mentally going over the dietary guidelines Gotoh had impressed on him earlier, pancakes were out of the question. But if Gon was replacing him anyway, his only concern was Zilsa's happiness, as outlined by his father. Making up his mind at the enthusiastic nod he got, it was easy. “OK, I can do that,” making sure the five-year-old was paying attention, “but this is only because it's a special day, us becoming friends; so I can't make them all the time, alright?”

“OK!”

“But first, how about you get dressed, huh? Then we can make them together.”

Scampering away to his bedroom, a little slip on the wooden floors with his socks, Zilsa disappeared with the promise of breakfast. Standing back up after a moment, Gon took the opportunity to get out everything they needed, before knocking quietly on the bedroom door.

“Can I come in, Zilsa?” The mumbled reply was good enough as an affirmation, so he opened the door slowly, popping his head in to find a slightly annoyed attempt at buttoning. “Do you need some help?” laced with a laugh, heart warming at the look that got.

“Please?”

Gon was back down, kneeling, as he fixed the button on the khaki shorts; pulled the t-shirt from where it had caught in his waistband, smoothing it out, big giraffe printed on the front. Spinning around to assess the outfit in his mirror, he was giving it a lot more consideration than kids normally would. Happy with the results, he turned back to Gon.

“We can make pancakes now, right?”

“Do you need to brush your hair?”

"I can do that later. Plus, Daddy only brushes his after a bath."

“Well, can't argue with that. C'mon, I've got everything set up all ready to go.”

The kitchen workbenches were marble, black and veined with green. Sleek and shining, the kitchen itself either didn't get used much, or had an impeccable cleaner. Probably both, he realised. Pulling over a chair for Zilsa to stand on, it was only a moment before the younger was sitting on the countertop itself; feet swinging and chair disregarded.

“Don't fall,” a hint of warning in his voice.

“I won't. I'm only sitting.”

Measuring out the flour, sugar, milk, Gon passed them to Zilsa to dump into the bowl. Cracking the eggs himself, he kept a close eye on the younger's mixing. The kitchen was still amazingly clean, which Gon could only believe was some sort of miracle.

Heating up the pan and butter, Gon let Zilsa back down to the floor as he waited. Eager to make himself useful, he pushed the chair all the way back to its spot; climbing up to wait at the dining table.

By the time Gon had finished cooking, soaked the pan to clean later, and put away the leftover ingredients, he was greeted by a very patient Zilsa; folding two napkins as he waited.

“Here you go.”

"Thanks, Zilsa. You can just put it by that spot," head nodding towards an empty seat. "I didn't know whether you wanted maple syrup or sugar and lemon, so I brought both."

“Mr. Gotoh doesn't let me have syrup.” Eyes wide, eager, as Gon placed the plates and cutlery down. Following the sticky liquid as it was put down to the side.

“Well, I'm not Mr. Gotoh; syrup's alright to have sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

A nod. “Only sometimes.”

“But today it's OK, right?”

“Absolutely.” Pushed to bottle closer before the small body tried to vault up to reach it; watched the absolute joy as it was poured over the other's meal. Taking a lemon slice and the sugar bowl himself, it was only a moment before he bit into his own dessert-like breakfast.

The meal was messy and enjoyed, the use of cutlery completely disregarded after the second bite. Pale hands and mouth covered in amber sweetness; Gon wiped the up as much mess as he could with both napkins, before steering the younger to the sink.  

“That was really yummy, Mr. Gon! You're a good cook!”

"I'm glad you liked it, but you don't need to call me Mr. There's no Mr.s here!"

“OK! There's no Mr.s here!”

“You got it.”

Foaming bubbles filled the sink, and Zilsa loved blowing his hands and watching them dance and burst; smiling widely when Gon dabbed his nose with the soap suds.

"How about you find something for us to do, while I clean the plates," watching as the little face fell into something close to contemplative, wondering what his new friend would like. "We can do anything you want; I don't mind."  

Making his way back to his room, Gon just watched as the fluffy head disappeared behind the door. Wondered how often Zilsa had been given choices before, to make him so unsure of himself.

At his return, holding a rubberised dinosaur, the timidness Zilsa wore had Gon gripping the toy tight. Smile big, as he exclaimed his excitement.

"Oh, cool! I get to be the dinosaur?" Black and brown paint, barely worn from the hard rubber. Some sort of velociraptor, he guessed.

Encouraged, it took a little nod and a second of watching Gon's face before the kindergartener broke into his own smile.

"Yeah! His name is Growler, and he eats space ships. And sometimes birthday cake, but only if it's someone's birthday." Green eyes shining, recounting a story of his own design. "I get to be Mechanator, he's this one," holding up a robot of a similar size, hard plastic reflecting the window light.

“And what does Mechanator do?” 

"He's s'posed to be travelling around space, but Growler ate his space ship," recounting the epic feud between his toys, "Growler didn't know he wasn't s'posed to eat it, but Mechanator got angry anyways. They're fighting, even though 'ts better to talk than fight; Mr. Gotoh _and_ my Daddy told me that. Auntie Alluka says that's pretty mean of Growler to do, though; which is why they're fighting.”

“Well, in that case, Growler and I won't lose!” Sitting on the rug in the living room area, miniature dinosaur in hand. And with a joyous sort of force, Zilsa nearly jumped into his lap.

“Nuh, uh!”

 

* * *

 

 

It was closing in on 6pm; having finished eating, the pair were now sitting, colouring. Crayons scattered around the table, a myriad of drawings atop the coffee table.

Gon was finishing his crayon portrait of Kon, careful not to break the brown in his scribbling. Zilsa was careful; looking over each colour before choosing.

“What are you drawing?” Watching as the little hand reached for the blue.

“My family.”

“And is that you?”

A shake of the head, “that's my Daddy. This is me,” pointing to a slightly shorter square body, white hair identically outlined with black. “He's got this colour eyes,” again, holding out the blue. “So does Auntie Alluka.”

“Is that your Auntie?” Black hair and a green dress, red waxy smile on her face.

“Yeah; and this is Mr. Gotoh and Miss Canary. They aren't really family, but they're nice to me.”

"Well, you drew them all very well. Who's that last one?"

“You, silly.”

Light umber skin, hair black and spiked, and a big, red, smiling mouth. There could be no doubt it was Gon. 

“I need that one,” pointing to the brown crayon still in Gon's hand. Smiling as he drew in Gon's eyes. The little stick arm stretching to crayon-Zilsa's.

“I think I'll draw my family, too, now. I've already got one of them done,” smoothing out his picture of Kon; grabbing the black.

It was a couple of minutes before he could feel the interested eyes on his drawing. Finishing, he held it up to show.

“That one's you.”

"Yep. And my Aunt and Grandma. And these ones over here are my friends."

“What about your Daddy?”

“I don't really see him much. He's not as good as yours.”

Nodding his head in agreement with the last part, he smiled to Gon. “I see my Daddy every day.”

“That's because he loves you lots.” Another nod and affirmative noise to that.

“What about your Momma?”

“I never knew her; my Aunt is my Mom.”

"That's the same as me!" The green eyes widening in the knowledge that they were similar in this regard. "I only knew her when I was a baby, so I don't know what she looks like." Picking up the blue again, to draw in clouds, "and Daddy doesn't like to talk about her. But Miss Canary and Auntie Alluka says she's watching from the clouds. That's why I gotta draw them in." Loopy scribbles at the top edge, a perfect peering spot for angels.

The ding of the elevator had Zilsa gasping; running to the doors, pictures left behind.

“Daddy!" 

Gon packed the crayons away in their box, smiling at the excited laughing behind, a gentle swoop as the five-year-old was picked up.

“How are you, kiddo? Have lots of fun?”

"Yeah, Daddy. Gon's really nice! He made pancakes, and he let me help; I mixed it really good, with the big spoon."

Gon had finished cleaning up, getting up to greet his new employer. Smile on his face, growing as he saw the two together. 

They were close to identical, the soft white of Zilsa's hair, obviously genetic. The younger's mouth was a little more bowed, cheeks slightly rounder, but there was no mistake they were father and son.

“A-and, we played with Growler and Mechanator afterwards, and then Gon showed me how to make a kite with a plastic bag, and, and he said we can go to the park and fly it tomorrow! And we were drawing, and I drew _you,_ Daddy.” 

Smiling softly to his son, the older Zoldyck just listened to Zilsa's happy recounts of the day; hand readjusting to fit him better on his hip as he walked towards Gon. 

"And you must be Gon," spare hand stretched out for a handshake. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate this,” Cool eyes the colour of summer evenings, grateful, "and it seems you're as good as your reputation." 

“Not at all, Mr. Zoldyck; Zilsa's an absolute pleasure to look after.” 

“Killua, please. I only make people I hate call me Mr. Zoldyck.” Sharp smile, his son grinning in his arms.

“There's no Mr.s here! Right?"

And Gon just ruffled that fluffy head, green and blue eyes focused on him.

"You got it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone!
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys the new chapter, and the first appearance of Killua!  
> I'm actually having a lot of fun with this, so I will probably be updating this somewhat frequently.
> 
> If you want to leave me a message, or just talk HxH, my Tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

Gon left close to seven, sky darkening to a colour close to that of Killua's eyes. The elevator ride was not nearly as daunting as it had been earlier in the day, and the cooling breeze nipped at him as he exited the lobby.

The balding security guard was still there, waving from his small booth as Gon turned toward the road, waving back. A cheery “I'll be back tomorrow” catching on the wind. Feet already directing him to the subway that would take him home.

Palm was there when he arrived, another veritable feast ready for him. Spare key left in the lock outside to remind her to put it back under the wisteria tree when she left; not that that was really necessary. The block of units were fairly communal, and residents had made it habit to come and go as they pleased. From the shuffled slide of a screen door outside, it wouldn't be long before Kurapika joined them. Tempted by food and company, like he was every night.

“Welcome back, Gon. Food's nearly done, but you can get the silverware in the meantime,” hands deep in some sort of batter; cascading hair swaying as she worked.

“No problem, Palm,” finding clean cutlery _yet again_ , already stacked neatly in the drawer. “And I told you you don't have to wash my dishes; you already feed me as it is.”

"And I told you it was fine. I always make too much food for myself anyway."

Sizzling of oil as she slowly lowered in a crumbed vegetable.

“You don't make this much for yourself, though. Once I get paid this week, I'll definitely cover it.” Silverware in place, four empty plates around the table.

“Pay your rent first – there's only so many weeks Bisky's willing to let it slide.”

“Have we started yet?” Blond closing the door behind him; anthropology book held to his chest. The soft drag of house slippers on the ugly carpet.

“You're just in time; I just got back, myself.” Handing over a plate, spooning himself something with rice and spices.

Joining them, Palm sat across from Gon. The last plate empty still, to her right.

“And what about the – thanks, Palm – the new job?” Steamed greens alongside fish, sesame and lemon mixing with the steam.

“Yeah, tell us how it went, Gon.”

Both were looking to him now; Kurapika chewing slowly, and Palm pinching her eyebrows together. An expectant silence in their eyes.

"It was great; once I got used to it," smile wide as he finished off his vegetables. Kurapika humming in acknowledgement, obviously pleased.

Door opening again, the final member of their meal arriving.

"Sorry I'm late, guys. The shifts at the hospital are killing me." Jacket already discarded in his own residence; Leorio was still loosening his tie as he near collapsed into the chair. Eyes lighting up at the remaining food.

“Are you sure it's not just because that cute nurse finished the same time as you again?”

“Certain,” voice snapping despite the seeming lack of energy. “Plus, she hasn't replied to my texts since we went out last Thursday.” Punctuated with a sigh, it was a familiar story.

“That's why I told you to stop dating nurses.”

“OK, how about we go back to whatever you guys were talking about before. Gon?” Eyes pleading, hoping the subject change would abate their slight, blond friend.

“I was telling them about the new kid I'm looking after.”

“Oh, the loaded one, right? Is their Mom hot? Single?” Only flinching a bit when Kurapika smacked him across the table.

"Dead, actually." Not surprised to see the apology settle in the older's brow. "His Dad seems to want the best for him though, despite being busy."

“Well, he hired you; so he at least has good judgement.”

Laughing a bit, finger scratching his cheek, Gon couldn't deny it. “Zilsa's a really good kid, but I think his last sitter was too strict. He's not used to being given choice.”

Palm just nodded sadly, eyes flickering to Kurapika. Something heavy in her gaze.

"That's a tough one, but I'm sure you can handle it, Gon."

"Oh, actually," standing slightly to better reach his back pocket, "I drew this today." Pigment a little smudged in his pocket, the heavy folds cutting the scene into squares; but, all in all, unscathed.

“That us?” Long finger hovering over the page. A flake of dislodged wax fluttering to the wood below.

“Yeah, we were drawing our families.” Eyes fond as he remembered the crayon version of himself on Zilsa's.

“Good likeness, considering your artistic skills.”

“Hey!” Making to snatch back the paper, instead losing it to Palm's quick hands.

"Oh, no you don't. I'll flatten it back out for you, see if I can iron out some of these creases."

“You don't have to do that, Palm,” leaning just a bit farther to try and reach. The salt only being saved from the floor by Kurapika's fast judgement, and faster reflexes.

"It's important to you. We can hang it on your fridge once I'm done."

And with that tone of finality she sometimes drew, the argument was over. Gon, settling back into his seat and huffing, defeated.

The rest of the night was warm.

 

* * *

 

At a quarter to eight the next morning, Gon was again standing in front of the tall apartment building.

It still towered to the heavens, top floors caressing the clouds; still had the reflective glass and metallic shine of high-class living, marble steps a stately welcome. Everything unchanged, aside from Gon's perspective.

Today he wasn't wary, unsure. Near skipping up the steps, the aging security guard seemed unsurprised to see him back. Heading to the windowed booth instead of the automated doors.

“Mr. Gotoh informed me you'll be a frequent visitor; I'm Zebro, head of security here,” kindly smile wrinkling his face even more.

“I'm Gon! I'm looking after Zilsa in apartment 99.”

“Oh, Master Killua's boy; I see!” Pressing the access button, a quiet beep as the glass doors slid open. “I'll see you again when you leave, then. Have a good day.”

“You too,” making sure to cross into the lobby before the automated doors shut.

Crossing over to the shining private elevator; the light immediately glowing as he pressed the button. He'd been sure to bring a bag today – preparation for the park – and the zipper jingled as he tapped his foot, a soft squeak of his shoes against the marble.

The ride up was similarly uneventful, and Gon felt slightly ridiculous for being so worried the day before. Reaching the second-most top floor, it was mere luck that he didn't immediately collide with his employer; both pulling back just in time. From the steaming cup of coffee in Killua's grasp, it was a relief.

"Oh, Gon! I've just woken Zilsa up and said goodbye," the two sidestepping around, switching places. "I wasn't sure if I'd see you before I left, so there's a note with my sister's number on it if there's any trouble." Lips pursing to blow on the coffee, eyes fluttering shut as he took a sip. "I'll be home same time as yesterday," doors starting to close as he smiled, "thanks again!"

And then he was gone.

Gon checked that indeed, a neat note was left on the kitchen bench, before beelining to Zilsa's room.

He knocked a little, before quietly opening the door. He was rubbing his eyes sleepily; hair only slightly more fluffed up than yesterday. A small mumble the only acknowledgement that he was aware of Gon at his door.

“Good morning, Zilsa. Are you ready to wake up?”

“G'mrnn.” More eye rubbing as he kicked his little legs at the blankets. “'s Daddy gone?”

"Yeah, he is. But you can tell him all about our day together when he gets back. I'm sure he'd love that." Moving to the side of the bed, watching as the bleary green eyes started to clear up with wakefulness. A toothy smile as the younger understood his words.

“Are we still going to the park?”

He was sitting up properly now, leaning close, eyes a-sparkle. Hands bunched in the blanket, excited.

“Yep. We can go right after breakfast.”

And they did.

 

* * *

 

The wind was perfect for kites; strong, but not aggressively so.

Even so, he'd made sure Zilsa had brought a sweater.

The park was only a short walk away, and the kindergartner had appreciated it – jumping over the cracks and seams in the pavement, holding tightly to Gon's hand whenever a car would pass. Sometime along the way, they had started reciting rhymes; the older well practised in recent months. Sing-song voices and swinging arms, by the time they reached the shaded edge of the greenery, they were laughing.

Wind whipped around snowy bangs, Gon pulling on the tiny sweater, head full of static, before letting him run to the top of the slope before them; turning back and waving at the top. Grinning when it was returned.

Soon enough Gon had joined him, the slope evening out, plateauing into softer grass. His shoes, cushioned bounce with each step; a little less protected from the wind.

Perfect.

“Is this where we're flying kites, Gon?”

He dropped his bag, crouching down to sift through the contents. He'd packed some snacks, and a folded jacket, just in case; the two rudimentary kites made of plastic bags and wooden skewers lay carefully to the side.

“It is, but we just need one more thing before we can start flying them.” Pulling out the spool of twine he'd brought with him, setting it atop the thin plastic sheets to stop them from blowing away. “Do you think you can find us some sticks? We only need two, but we don't want them to break easily.”

Nodding enthusiastically, he scampered back down to where the trees were; Gon nearly leaped up when he saw the smaller stumble, but the easy way Zilsa steadied himself was reassuring.

As the white fluffed head bobbed away, Gon quickly tied the twine to the kites, looping into the punched holes reinforced with tape; measuring out another good two meters before cutting off the excess. Folding up the small pocket knife, he made sure it was back in his bag before Zilsa came back. It wasn't sharp enough to do any damage, but he didn't want any nasty mishaps.

Waiting, he could see the careful deliberation given to the ground around one of the taller trees. Watched as pale hands seemed to make a decision.

“I got these two. Are they OK?”

“Yeah, perfect choice. Now, this is what we're going to use them for.” Grabbing one and the end of twine, he tied a knot as securely as he could; winding it around the stick to shorten it once he was done.

Handing it over to the pair of eager hands at his side, he finished up his own; standing once he did.

“Alright, which way is the wind pushing you, Zilsa?”

“Um, from this way,” drawing a line in the air, “it's pushing my back!”

“So that's the way the kites want to be pushed. We'll have to start here,” drawing them a little farther towards the centre, “I'll hold this end, and you run, OK? Be careful.”

And following instruction, the kite was up and flying before he knew it.

They stood side-by-side; the wind at their back, and kites dancing above. Zilsa seemed immersed, following the dip and swoop of his with a smile; eyes shining with happiness.

“Fun, huh?”

“I wish I could fly.”

It was a gasp of a dream, smile curving towards the sky. Older than it should've been. Fingers of his free hand stretched out, above.

“I want to touch the clouds.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! 
> 
> I'm so sorry this took longer than I thought!  
> As always, thank you for reading; I really appreciate it. 
> 
> Additionally, I will be travelling internationally for 3 weeks, so unfortunately there won't be any new chapters until mid-February. I hope you understand, and again, I really apologise.
> 
> If you want to leave me a message, or just chat HxH, my tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

It was mid afternoon by the time the two decided to return to the apartment, wind still blustering, but excitement and adrenaline catching up to the younger.  He'd fallen asleep on the way home, small arms still loosely hung around Gon's neck.  Quiet breath tickling at his ear, and the gentle swing of legs with the movement.

The low hum of the elevator as they ascended vibrated in the air, Zilsa snuffling soft whispers into Gon's shoulder as the quiet _ping_ announced their arrival.  White hair tickling at his cheek, Gon readjusted his hold on the little legs before stepping into the apartment and towards the couch.  Green eyes blinked sleepily up at him once they'd settled – similar to this morning, the slight confusion falling away after the first second – soft smile as he slowly recognised where he was, who he was with.

It was too late in the day to justify a nap any longer than he'd had; Gon worried he wouldn't sleep later in the evening, otherwise.  Wouldn't want his father having to deal with an energetic kindergartener after working all day.

Dinner was prepared earlier than the day before – something to do for Gon as Zilsa drowsily watched – cut carrots and cucumber arranged in a bowl, raw and crunchy.  Pasta strained, oil drizzled, ham sliced.  A white sauce to the side, waiting for the older Zoldyck.  Two places set, one filled with food.  Small hands manoeuvring cutlery and food, small giggles from both as the silverware clattered against the crockery.  Slurping of the pasta between bowed lips.

After dinner he washed the dishes; let Zilsa change into his pyjamas after he'd helped fill the sink, brought a bowl of strawberries out to share afterwards.  Wasn't quite sure what they'd do the next hour and a half.  Once everything was clean, dishes drained and dried, put away in the cupboards, it was only another moment before shuffling feet came to the doorway.  Pale hands at his front, shirt bunched between two fists, sparkle of hope in his eyes.

“D-do I have to go to bed now, Gon?”

“It's a bit early still, I think...  Unless you want to, Zilsa?  You have had a big day.”  Green eyes, round and glittering; just a hint of the sleep swimming in his gaze from before.

Shaking his head, baby teeth exposed in a smile.  “Can we watch mouse detective?  It's my favourite.”

“I don't know if I've seen mouse detective; we'll have to watch it together, then.”

The disc was in a drawer beneath the television, the sleeve of the plastic case bent at the spine.  Menu music loading, a jaunty tune against the colourful animation on the screen.  Pressing the button on the remote, the two settled into the couch; blanket bundled around the small boy, cheek pressed against Gon's arm as the opening credits played.

And then the narrator started.

 

* * *

 

It was whilst the credits were rolling; small logos of studios scrolling up the screen, that Killua returned.

His son had fallen asleep somewhere near the happy ending, smiling amidst his dreams.  Gon was carefully trying to retract himself from beneath his fluffy head, about to carry him off to bed.  He had one arm under his legs, lifting him up into his arms.  It was a moment before he realised the return of the older Zoldyck.  It was a wordless exchange between them, not wanting to wake the sleeping boy as they walked to his bedroom; Killua pressing a kiss to his crown once he was under the blankets, curled up on his side.

“Love you, little guy; sleep well.”  A whisper as fingers softly curled into white hair, smaller ones curling into sheets in response.  Half-realised mumbles as he shifted, as his father lightly ruffled the downy fluff.

They closed the door with a quiet click, both wandering towards the dining area.  It was just another minute before Gon was reheating the pasta and white sauce, salad arranged on the waiting plate.

“How was he today?”

“Happy, but it really wore him out,” pouring the heated sauce now, moving to the table, placing the plate in front of the other, “we went to the park today, flying kites; made a day of it.”

“Have you eaten?”  Fork already moving to his mouth, stopping when the other shook his head.

“Its fine, I have a meal waiting at home.”

“Sorry to keep you from your girlfriend, then,” tone light, but finely laced with the apology.  Punctuating with a hearty bite.

He had to splutter out a laugh at that thought, he and Palm, dating; the two too close of friends, too comfortable to be anything more.  White eyebrows rising slightly at that reaction.  “Boyfriend?”

“Ah, neither,” hands waving slightly to affirm his denial, “my neighbours and I get together for meals.”

“Sounds nice.” 

And his voice seemed to echo around the room, around Gon's mind.  It became incredibly obvious all at once how lonely the scene would be once Gon left.  A single man, alone with nothing but his thoughts and a sleeping child; overwhelming quiet swallowing the evening as time ticked on – the only option, to work, to tire, to sleep, never interacting with anyone – welcoming the next day with promises of the same thing as the last.  It was a sad idea, and it grabbed deep in Gon's chest.  Killua was someone Gon's own age who never had the opportunity to spend time with his family, his child, the person he wished only happiness for.  Someone who had probably spent years eating solitary meals at empty tables before Gon had known him.

And it was with this thought, that he said what he did; heart pushing to release some of the heavy pressure in the room.

“You two can join us, if you'd like?   Palm always makes plenty of food.”  Watching as the fork in the other's hand didn't _quite_ clatter to the plate as his hand dropped.  “And she's a much better cook than I am.”

Blue eyes were wide, a near perfect imitation of his son; a spark of electricity, of hope, caught in the colour.  It was a moment before he blinked, seemingly having returned from his shock; mouth still slightly ajar.

“How about Saturday night?  I'm sure everyone would love to meet you and Zilsa, Killua.”

“OK,” voice faint.  Another moment passed between them, Gon smiling wide as Killua seemed to realise what he'd said.  “W-wait, I mean... I don't want to intrude, sorry.  I don't even know if I can find some time in my schedule.”

“Well, it doesn't have to be right now, but we'd love to have you.  You wouldn't be intruding at all!”  Trying to emphasise his point, arms crossed on the table as he leant; wondering if the extra two could fit around his table – maybe if he borrowed Palm's dining chairs from her room. 

And the smile he got at that, timid and with a soft edge, made him hope it'd be sooner rather than not.

 

* * *

 

“So you invited the guy to dinner?  Without asking us?”  Leorio's cuffs were unbuttoned, hastily pushed up to his elbows as he nursed a beer.  “You do realise you've only know the guy two days, right?  And barely even that.”

Kurapika hummed non-commitedly from his seat – picking his way through the salad he always managed to take too much of – hair being tucked behind his ear as he swallowed.  “I wouldn't mind meeting him.”

“Neither would I, actually,” Palm's eyes glittering at the idea, “I'll have to make sure I prepare something towards his tastes, though.”

“You have nothing to worry about, Palm.  Your food is the best!”  The other two, nodding in agreement at that.

“Rich or not, anyone would have to be crazy to dislike your cooking.”

“Is that your official diagnosis, doctor?”

“Shut up, you.  It's not like you disagree.”

Gon was laughing, now; sure his friends had no major objections to future dinner plans with the Zoldycks.  Watching as Kurapika narrowly dodged one of Leorio's flailing limbs; getting up to help Palm when she started collecting plates.

It was comfortably loud and vibrant; friends sharing their time together.

“So you think Saturday is all right?  Killua said he had the evening free this week.”

“That should be fine; be sure to call me when you leave, so everything'll be ready.”

And as simple as it was for them to converge like this, to come together and share a meal every night, it was a simple agreement – simple plans.  An atmosphere of warmth and comfort, as easy as it was natural.

And Gon couldn't wait to share it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> I'm sorry this took so long to update, hopefully the new chapter was worth the wait!  
> Thanks for reading; I really appreciate it.
> 
> Uni starts up again next week, so whilst there will be quite frequent updates, I may slip a little. Please be patient with me.
> 
> If you want to leave me a message, or just chat HxH, my tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

On Wednesday Zilsa taught him a word game; something educational that the butlers had introduced to get him using more complex words, some Gon wasn't sure he knew. Things like inutile or effulgent, amain and tiffin. When Gon admit defeat for the fourth time in an hour, it was the first time in the long time that he'd truly felt stupid. He made sure to tickle Zilsa down his sides in retribution.

Thursday it rained, and it was with a sleek opening of an umbrella that Gon found Killua that morning; preparing to dash between the lobby and his private car, he couldn't help wonder why the other needed an umbrella at all. Zilsa and he built a pillow fort in the lounge, blankets and cushions piled up; reading story books and snuggling close. Zilsa falling to sleep before his father came home, had to be roused to eat his dinner.

Finger-paints were the activity chosen on Friday, bright blue and green sinking into fingerprints, a rainbow across pale complexion - spilling to the old newspaper put down to protect the tabletop and smudging to every inch of exposed skin. And as bright and wonderful the pigment was accenting his eyes, his pinkish cheeks, Gon knew Zilsa needed to get clean before his father got home. He took a photo on his phone first, though; of a dozen colours lending some vibrancy to the little boy, his white hair stark against the skin of paint.

They filled a bubble-bath, suds atop sopping hair, shirt splashed and dripping as they both tried to scrub away the day from the tiny face, hands – Gon ending up so wet, had to use the clothes dryer; Killua walking in to his apartment, greeted by the shirtless man leaning on the laundry door frame, his son brushing his teeth.

The spluttered blush was worth it.

He ended up staying longer Friday night than he'd planned on, forgetting his own dinner to cook his employer one; grilled fish and steamed greens, rice on the side. A glass of sparkling water quickly replaced with wine, thin eyebrow raising to Gon's first drink choice.

“I wasn't sure whether you drink?” Head resting on his hand, elbow propped against the cool hardwood.

“It's a Friday night; believe me, I drink,” punctuated by a sip of the drink in question, “and even if I didn't, I need something to get rid of the image of _you_ shirtless from my mind.” Sly humour glistening in blue eyes.

“Hey!” Mock offence lacing with a laugh; head rising as he straightened. “It's not my fault your dryer dries slowly”

“It's your fault for getting wet in the first place.”

“Is that right? I'll make sure to remember that the next time your son splashes me with bathtub water.”

Killua goes back to his fish at that, mouth full as he mumbles the next thing, eyes averting to the side of the room. Gon scrunching his brows together as he tries to make out the mumbled words; gives up when they're drowned down by wine.

“Aside from your apparent need to use my dryer, what else went on today?”

“Not too much. We went to the gallery down the street.”

“Oh, yeah? Did Zilsa like it?”

“We came to the conclusion that he could probably paint something better. And he did.”

Killua laughed at that, mouth curving upwards as the boy in question latched onto his legs, smooshing his face against his thighs. Hands moving down to pet the fluffy white hair.

“So you were quite the artist today; huh, kiddo?”

“I painted the park, Daddy!” Little hands moving as he spoke, an non-verbal gesture to be lifted to his father's lap.

“Did you?”

A bobbing head, arms looping around broader shoulders as he's brought up into his dad's seat. “It's on the fridge, 'cuz Gon said you would see it there.”

“Let's go have a look then; and after that, it's bedtime for _you_ , little man.”

“ I don't wanna...”

“Daddy needs to talk with Gon for a little bit right now, but tomorrow I'm going to be home all day.”

“Really?” Even from across the table, the hope imbued in the word, in the sparkle of green eyes, Gon could feel his smile turn to something softer – watched as love filled the young father's face.

“Really. So say good night to Gon, and then I'll tuck you in.”

“G'night, Gon.”

“Good night, Zilsa; I'll see you tomorrow.”

The two made their exit; detouring to the fridge – exclamations of amazement and pride at the art there - before heading to the younger Zoldyck's room. Gon wrote an apologetic text to Palm in the mean time, sending it off just as Killua re-emerged.

“So; tomorrow...” trailing off as he sat down again to the remainder of his meal. “I'm not sure what we should do. Do you think the zoo is OK? Or an aquarium?”

“It'll be busy tomorrow; and don't you want to rest? I'm sure you can stay home and Zilsa would enjoy it just as much. But he'd love anything you organised for him, Killua. He just want's to spend the time with you.”

“Oh.” Eyes wide, just that. Oh.

It broke Gon's heart, a little.

“I wasn't sure if you want me here, if you've got the day off; I can just give you my address for dinner. Or, I could come pick you two up if you don't mind public transport.”

“Oh, uh, actually, I think Zilsa might prefer it if you're here tomorrow. And me, actually,” blush flaring up again. “Sorry, you deserve the weekends off, I'm sure there's plenty you need to get done.”

“It's fine, Killua,” making sure the other man could catch his smile. “If you need me here, it's fine.”

There's a bubble of a laugh at that, popping as quickly as it arose. “If I need you here...” hand gripping at his head, a defeated sigh. “God, I'm clueless about my own son.”

It was sad, this air of acceptance; heavy and uncomfortable.

“Hey, Killua? I don't think you need to worry about knowing everything about Zilsa, you're already a better parent than most I've met.”

“How do you figure that? I barely see him.” Expression twisting into something scolding, berating himself. “Once he gets older, it'll be even less, I'm sure. He's growing up without me.” And the way his voice tightened – small and hard in his throat – it was instinct for Gon to reach out and take Killua's hand. Smiling at the shocked expression that got.

“Killua, you're interested in your child,” hand squeezing his a little at the words. “If I've learnt anything from looking after kids, it's that the thing they want the most is their parents to take notice, to listen. You do that everyday, Killua; even though you're busy and tired and probably stressed by a million things, you make the time for your son to talk to you, and for you to listen. You're the best parent I know.”

And it was the truth, completely.

Which is why it was a shock when Killua started crying; glistening tears tracking down his face, and lip bit in an unsuccessful attempt to prevent them from falling. And with a sniff and a shuddering breath, he returned the squeeze on his hand.

“Thank you, Gon.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, guys! I hope it was worth the wait!
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading; I really appreciate it.
> 
> My tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com, if anyone's interested.


	6. Chapter 6

It was with dried tears and a tired smile that Killua Zoldyck bid Gon a good night; and never before had it felt so wrong to be standing in the polished lobby of the building – marble echoing under his footsteps, yellow light soft on the eyes.

Zebro waved as he left, nodding as he passed with his own half-hearted wave.

It was usual, the trip back; but coming home to a quiet unit made him realise just how uncomfortable and cold it was.  There was a note on the fridge, indicating what were leftovers, and what was for tomorrow, and as such, 'DO NOT TOUCH, GON.  SERIOUSLY.'

Grabbing the nearest safe dish of food, it was with the final beep of the microwave that he heard the short double tap before his front door was opening.  Kurapika.

“Hey, Gon.”

“Kurapika!  Are you OK?”  Moving towards his friend before he softly signalled to relax – gentle smile and hand raised.

“Just thought you might like some company.”

“Oh, yes; thank you.  That's actually… probably exactly what I need right now...” sentence trailing.  Grabbing a clean fork from his drainer, looking to Kurapika.

“I'm fine, not hungry; I'll just make some tea,” already filling the kettle.  Grabbing a mug from the upper cabinet as he waited for the water to boil.  “Hard day today?”

“Not really.”

“But something happened, right?”  Moving the teapot from the stove as it whistled, teabag seeping.  Sitting beside his friend at the table – a hardcover novel in one hand.

“I had to talk to Killua, is all.  I'm working again tomorrow.”

His smile wasn't quite as full as it should have been; finding it hard to swallow around the lump in his throat.  Kurapika wasn't dumb – if Gon realised it, of course his friend did.

“You're too quiet.”

“Just tired, Kurapika.  It's been a long week.”  Not quite sure he wanted anyone else to know about how he'd watched his boss cry for a good ten minutes.  How thin shoulders shook, and pale fingers had trembled in his hand.  About how he'd been able to do little more than grasp his other hand on them to warm and comfort.

How he had wanted to pull Killua into a hug.

How he hadn't.

Eyes flickered around his expression, unconvinced; but the quiet hum the blond took whilst he drank was enough of an indication that he wouldn't pry.

“I'm glad this job is going well for you.  And I'm sure Biscuit will be happy to have this month's rent on time.”

“And I can finally start paying Palm back for all these meals.”

“You'll make her angry if you try.”

All he could do was laugh at that, aware how true it was.

They sat in the quiet for a little while – Gon finishing his meal as Kurapika watched the tea leaves in his cup swirl.  Atmosphere shifting; the drifting music of a radio coming from one of the others' room.

“Jazz.  Leorio,” Kurapika closing his eyes at the name, inhaling deep through his nose.  Hands still encircling his empty cup, lingering warmth settling into his fingertips.

The music quieted, the radio either moving farther into their neighbour's unit, or turned off for the night as the young doctor prepared to sleep.

He exhaled just as deeply; Gon surprised at how long his friend had held his breath for.  Or maybe he'd been breathing this whole time, and he just hadn't noticed.

“Hey, Gon?”

“Yeah?”

“Does it feel like things are changing, or is that just me?”

It does feel like things are changing.  It has all week; but only this evening, with Killua's hand in his, did he really realise it.  And not just with the Zoldycks.  Change is on the wind, and Gon can feel the slow shift.

“It's not just you,” not quite sure what he wanted to say aside from agreeing.  “Things are different than usual.”

Kurapika humming again, nodding as if to convince himself of his own suspicions, long hair swaying.

“I don't mind things changing, Gon.  That's the way things are,” eyes drawn down to his book, but focus clearly beyond, “I just don't want to lose anything else.”

There were a thousand unspoken conversations with that; experiences Gon couldn't even start to fully understand.  It was rare to see Kurapika like this.  Rare, but not unheard of.  The evening air was stale in the room; tempting to open a window, break the bubble.  The way Kurapika's shoulders hung had Gon disregard that though.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” head shaking.  “Nothing's even _happened_ yet, and I'm...” eyes downcast.

It took a minute – one that stretched far longer than it should have – before Kurapika started talking again.

“If things are going to change anyway, I don't want to feel like I do now,” sighing again, hand thoughtlessly itching his arm.  “I want to stop feeling... regretful.”  The final word, a mere whisper.

It wasn't hard to guess what Kurapika meant.

It was obvious, and Gon knew Kurapika understood that.  Saw thin lips pull at the corners – a weary, tired smile.

“Do you want to stay here tonight?”

A vigorous shake of the head at that; smile widening to something that could reach his eyes.

“Thanks, Gon.  I appreciate it, but I'm OK,” standing up from the table.  “It's late, so sleep.  You have work tomorrow morning, right?”

He couldn't argue.  So many emotional encounters today, compacted on top of a week of early mornings, he was exhausted.  Fatigue crawled up his spine, weighed down his limbs; and as soon as he'd waved Kurapika goodbye he head straight for bed.

Collapsing under everything that had happened, eyelids heavy.

And for the rest of the night, he slept.

 

* * *

 

It's not as early as the past few days when Gon arrives the next morning; but it feels familiar, coming here, now. 

When the elevator ping announces his arrival, he's almost surprised no one's there to meet him.  No blustering Killua trying to leave for work, in an elegant shambles.

Instead, there's laughter from the kitchen; two voices, and it makes Gon's heart leap.

He realises he's never heard something so captivating before.  It thrums in his core, as he cautiously heads towards the sound.  Another round has him holding his breath.

He doesn't want to intrude.  Killua had no need for him to be here, evidently, and he'd rather quietly excuse himself before they realised.

A little too late; as Zilsa had spied him, and come running.  Hands wet, and smile large.

“Daddy made bacon!”

“And good morning to you, Zilsa.  Was it yummy?” watching as the little boy nodded enthusiastically; head turning back to his father, who had resumed washing the dishes.

“Do you know what you want to do today?”  Voice loud enough to be addressed to both Zoldycks, but only the younger answering.

“I wanna; I wanna go meet your friends, Gon!”

“You can do that tonight; we're having dinner together, remember?”  Watching as green eyes lit up in excitement, “what else do you want to do today, with your dad?”

“Can we swim, Daddy?”

That has the older pausing, hands settling into soapy water.

“Swimming?”  It's a quiet moment before he seems to shrug, having made a decision.  “OK, kiddo; if you want.”

The three go to the building's private pool; Gon borrowing an older swimsuit from Killua and Zilsa already proudly wearing his floaties.

It was empty, dripping water echoing around the tiled room as Killua retrieved towels for them; placing them on one of the many sun beds – redundant, for an indoor pool like this.

He stood by the towels, distracted.  Hand at the hem of his t-shirt, seemingly frozen.  There was a flicker of dark blue eyes as they found the relative stranger, Gon breaking the heavy eye contact when Zilsa splashed him as he jumped into the chlorinated pool.

And just as it had started, the weird mood lifted; Killua sighing a small smile.

“Look, Daddy!  I can kick fast!”  Little legs splashing the water around.  Soft laughter from his father.

Pulling off the shirt to join his son and his sitter, Gon realised why there had been so much hesitation.

His back was full of scars.

Puffy, old.  Long-healed but numerous.  Large lines, across, down his back – thousands of instances of pain; and Gon couldn't begin to imagine why without feeling sick.

Pale skin, marred with the evidence of an awful past, bright under the florescent lights.

When he turned back to the water, Gon slid his eyes away towards the splashing 5-year-old; but not before catching glimpses of more scars – one in particular, round rather than long, as if the skin had burst around the area before it had healed, on his abdomen.

Killua entered the water gracefully, swimming to reach his son.  Grabbing tiny hands as they started to move Zilsa up and down the length of the pool.  It was nice.  They were smiling.

Gon was not.

 

* * *

 

They had swum for hours; stopping only once hunger had started clawing, and they went back up to the apartment.  Lunch was simple sandwiches, and the three plopped onto the couch afterwards, 

Zilsa napped quietly as a movie played, and then another.  Outside was getting darker, and the orange of the sky was glowing bright against the white walls of the apartment.  With a cursory glance to the wall clock, Killua stretched out his shoulders before moving to wake his son,

“Hey kiddo, it's time to wake up if we want to look nice for dinner at Gon's house.”

Sleep blurred the green eyes as they opened; but soon enough, he was grinning wide.  “Okay!”

Killua offered Gon his ensuite shower to use whilst they used the other bathroom for themselves; for him to wash away the strong smell of chlorine and change back into the outfit he'd been wearing this morning, rather than the dried-out swimsuit and old shirt Killua had lent him for today.  He readily accepted, and when he emerged, he felt a lot cleaner, a lot better.

The shower had given him time to think about today, about the new revelations, and had made up his mind.  Killua hadn't said anything about the scars, so Gon wouldn't mention them.  He wasn't sure if he should apologise about seeing them, though.

He decided he'd let it be; if they broached the subject, then he could ask.

Cleaned and dressed, Gon texted Palm to see whether everything was alright for tonight.  She texted back simply, with well wishes and appreciation for the heads-up.  Smiling, hoping everything would work out.

When he found the father and son, they both seemed to share a nervous buzz.  Killua reaching for a wine rack, pulling a bottle out.  Holding it out with a timid look of questioning.

“Is this alright?  I'm not sure what your friends drink, but it's a fairly good year.”  The bottle dark; red wine.

“You don't have to bring anything, Killua.”

“I know, but I am.  I can't have your friends hate me right off the bat,” a forced sort of laughter.

“Trust me, they won't.  They're all excited to meet you two,” making sure his smile was extra wide.

It was with a touch of blush that Killua nodded his head; his son, both arms around his leg as he gave Gon an excited smile.

“I'm just going to message Canary, and then we can go.”  Fingers moving swiftly across the phone, typing fast; lighting up almost immediately afterwards in response.

“Canary?”

“My driver; I thought my car might be a bit more comfortable,” eyes flickering down to the white fluffy head by his hip, “than the subway.”  Hand rubbing at his neck, blue eyes settling on a comfortable level.

Maybe understanding the question in Gon's expression, he continued, a touch softer than before.  “I don't drive.”

And before Gon could question it, offer to drive them, the elevator pinged, taking them down to the basements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Thanks for waiting so patiently - this chapter got much longer than I expected! I hope you all like it.
> 
> If you'd like to chat, my tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com


	7. Chapter 7

When they arrive outside of Gon's unit complex, there are garden lights showing them the way; set up with flickering candles, jazz spilling from his home.

They thank Canary, a small bob of the head in acknowledgement, and then they're walking the illuminated path – hand in hand, Zilsa between the two young men.

The door is open, as Gon expected, and they step into the bustling room – Kurapika moving food to the table, Leorio pouring drinks, Palm still busy in the kitchen. Biscuit's lounging in one of his ratty armchairs, wine in hand, overseeing her tenants as they prepare for the meal; and even Melody is arranging cutlery, head bopping slightly to the tune as she works. His home is full of energy, and it washes over him like a wave, refreshing. Holding the door open, he lets his guests in first, smiling at them as they cross the threshold.

Kurapika's the first to approach the small group, hand out to shake, pleasant and polite as he offers his welcome – smile warm as he crouches down to Zilsa's eye-level.

There's commotion as the other's join them, Leorio looping his arm around Gon's shoulders as he introduces himself; Melody and Palm and Biscuit crowding around, happy voices and encouraging smiles as Killua just stood, a little shell-shocked. Zilsa matching each smile he'd received, green eyes excited.

“I hope you three are hungry,” Palm returning to the kitchen where she had been previously, “because this meal's going to be fantastic; if I do say so myself.”

“It smells good, Palm,” delicious wafting from his tiny kitchenette – Gon was still amazed at what his friend could conjure up in such a small space.

“God, it's been torture. She won't let anyone even _taste_ what she's making; and she's been cooking for... well, since before I got here.”

“And me.”

Melody's laughing behind her hand, watching the youngest amongst the group break away from his father to venture deeper into the small unit – near jumping on the worn sofa in the living room as his interest in the conversation wanes. Sitting down to chat with the young Zoldyck as he swings his legs, sharing the story of his day with his father and Gon. How Canary had driven them and played the radio when he'd asked.

Biscuit's inspecting the newest bottle of wine, jaw going slack as she reads the label. It's funny how quickly she downs her drink after that; readying herself for the more expensive year. Eyes sparkling as the deep liquid sloshes around the bottle.

A sudden ding of a timer has Palm scrambling back to the kitchen, mouth-watering smell of cooking pouring into the room as she opens the oven – pulling out a roast, perfectly brown, and surrounded by root vegetables.

“Dinner's ready!” A relieved sigh rippling through their friends; glad to finally be able to enjoy the meal. Leorio's stomach growling loudly in agreement as Kurapika's quieting him with a nudge with his elbow.

Zilsa's being lifted into a seat by Melody, smiling kindly as she helps the small boy with his napkin; Gon pulling out a chair for Killua to sit aside his son, watches as his new friend and employer's neck turns a lovely shade of pink – the blush not quite reaching his face yet. He wondered if it would.

There's friends and music and plenty to drink.  
And a comforting familiarity of family.

And Gon's glad Killua's here to experience it.

 

* * *

 

It's three courses later, and for the first time in Gon's life, he's completely  _done_ with Palm's cooking. If she's expecting him to eat all those left overs, well... OK, he'll eat them, but it's going to take much longer than usual.

They've gotten through at least a dozen bottles of wine between them, the room warmer and softer than Gon can remember it being. Kurapika's telling Killua something interesting about his latest research work; words heavy in the air with the smell of wine and spices. Leorio nodding sagely like he understands any of it.

Zilsa had had his attention on Biscuit, watching the woman pull faces at him across the table as he giggled. Small pale hands pull his own face into funny expressions; half the table watching the interactions between their oldest and youngest members of the party with interest. That was over an hour ago now, though,

It was closer to midnight now, and Zilsa slept happily, head in his father's lap. Small exhales huffing, tiny lips murmuring dreams occasionally. Fingers patting through his hair, smiling down to the sleeping boy.

Killua's other hand though, somehow made it's way into Gon's.

They've been holding hands under the table sometime since his fourth glass of wine, and from the way Gon's face feels like it's tingling, he wonders whether his happiness is as evident as it feels.

The evening is winding down, food and wine and conversation finally coming to an end – but he wants this bubble to last just a little longer – clinging to the warmth of friends, of Killua. And somewhere along the way he's gotten used to the man beside him more than he can reason why. More than he can understand.

Killua's blinking slowly, eyes bright blue and burning – attention on Gon – and now his mouth is dry. Dehydrated from the alcohol, maybe. He tastes the salt of his lips as he licks them, watches Killua do the same.

There's a clank of glass on the tabletop, breaking their reverie; Biscuit finishing her glass of wine, again. Heavy sigh of satisfaction.

“I think I'll let you kids clean up,” stretching her shoulders out, popping as they moved, “Ladies like us have to get their beauty rest, right?” Winking at Palm.

She smiles at the gesture, pushing her chair out too.

“I should go too, actually. I've got a lot to do tomorrow.”

“Thanks for everything, Palm,” agreement and nodding coming from everyone else around the table, “and Biscuit, I'm glad you could come.”

“I'd be a fool to miss out on a dinner made by Palm. But you boys play nice now; don't scare off Gon's new friend.”

Laugher, soft and scattered around the table as the two women leave; waving and shutting the door quietly behind them.

Killua sets Zilsa down on the small sofa to sleep; helping Kurapika collect the plates from the table despite the others' protests. Gon's filling the sink with soapy water; Leorio filling the fridge with left overs – but not before letting the host put aside tupperware full for the Zoldycks to take home.

There aren't that many dishes to clean, only the plates directly from the table as Gon frustratingly realised Palm had washed pots and cooking utensils as she worked,  _yet again_ .

Gon scrubs away, forearms submerged as he works. They're quiet as they clean; even now, comfortable.

The other three dry; Killua sliding next to Gon as he works – prompting a little splash of Gon's fingers at Killua's rolled-up sleeves. A little sly smile in response, a bump of shoulders just a moment afterwards.

He's giggling, watching the soap swirl in the sink, pale hands reaching out for plates, waiting.

Gon nearly jumps when a small hand settles on his shoulder, breaking him from watching the fine crinkles of Killua's eyes as he smiled – from noticing the faint barely-there freckles on his cheeks.

“We're gonna go, Gon. Thanks again for having us over,” tired eyes, but genuine, happy, smile. “And it was nice to meet you and Zilsa, Killua; I hope we can do this again.”

“Of course,” shaking Kurapika's hand, huffing a little laugh when Leorio claps him on the back.

And all of a sudden, they're alone; Zilsa still sleeping soundly in the other room. It's a little bit awkward.

“I've texted Canary, she'll be here soon, so we should probably go too.”

“You don't have to.” I don't want you to.

“I know.”

And then his hand is back in his; like before, under the table. Blush more apparent. Killua's eyes are large, blue, electric. Gon's had a lot to drink, but even without the subtle haze of alcohol he'd still feel warm. Watches his dark fingers curl around the milky ones, interlocked. Breath hitching, Killua raising his other hand to Gon's face – light touch of skin brushing his ear.

It's quiet, and strangely intimate. Raises his hand to cup over Killua's, leaning into the touch. Exhaling through his nose with a hum.

There's a knock on the door, sharp and loud, announcing Canary's arrival. Zilsa making sleepy mumbles of annoyance, as his father and his nanny jump apart, nervous laugh bubbling up.

They're at the door, not yet ready to open it, Zilsa in Killua's arms, still sleeping.

“Thanks for coming tonight...”

“No,” head shaking slightly, “thank _you_ for this, Gon. It was wonderful. And your friends, I wish I could thank them personally again.” Free hand coming up to Gon's shoulder.

And then.

His lips. On his.

Kissing.  
Warm and soft and maybe a little sad.

And then Killua was backing up, readjusting his grip on Zilsa, and opening the door. Making his way back to the black car, Canary behind the wheel.

“I'll see you on Monday, right, Gon?” Voice maybe an octive higher than usual, facing away.

And all Gon can say is

“-Yeah.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the long wait, I hope the chapter was worth it!
> 
> Thank you, everyone. I really appreciate the kind comments and lovely, thoughtful, art.   
> My tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com


	8. Chapter 8

Sunday is too long, Gon thinks.

He’s been trying to preoccupy himself with Palm’s potted herbs for the past hour; and Kurapika asked him this morning if he could help move a bookshelf to another wall.  It’s not quite noon and they’re all still a little muffled from last night – but Gon, not for the reasons his friends might think.

There’s warmth in his veins he can’t quite shake; the memory of Killua, soft in the yellow glow of his cheap light bulbs, water droplets lining his fingers.  How easy it had been to feel him on his lips, how easy it had been for Gon to want more than the faint brush of last night.  To wonder why it had been so wonderful.

Palm just leaves him be; staring at a pot of oregano for an unmeasured amount of time as he watches the sunlight catch on the green leaves.

Reminding him of a certain 5-year-old; of how excited he was to watch a flying kite.  How much they had smiled that day, under the fluttering of a plastic bag caught on the wind.

There are a million moments Gon has to share with Killua about his son.

There are a billion more he wants to share with Killua _and_ his son.

And oops, he’s maybe a little bit in love with the tiny family.  Wants to be a part of it, too.

And Kurapika’s small knock on Palm’s door wondering _why_ Gon was taking so long finally broke his reverie.  If he wasn’t obvious already, his sharp jump felt like it was saying more than his words ever could.

 

* * *

 

There are books _everywhere_. 

Every flat surface is covered in stacks; piled high as they wait for their home to be pushed against the opposite wall.  Kurapika has always had books; loves them dearly, and spends most his off-time reading.  He’s buying a new shelf for the larger wall – so now the older one is being relegated to the small empty wall next to the loveseat.  Gon’s surprised anything else can even _fit_ in Kurapika’s unit, but the blond has never been messy.  Everything has its spot, and Gon’s heard the arguments through the wall whenever Leorio visits.  More so concerned for his friend’s safety than anything.

He’s been carefully trying to slide the hardwood piece of furniture into the tight space for a while; Kurapika watching him intently, lip caught in his teeth, biting lightly.  Gon wills himself to concentrate.  To not _think about lips_.  And there’s a heavy thunk as the back of the bookcase hits the wall.

He sighs in relief; job over, and mind mostly off Killua.  He sits heavily on the arm of the loveseat beside him, Kurapika stepping towards in thanks.  There’s fresh tea brewing in his kitchen; and in their usual agreement of thanks, they share the pot.  His teacups are mismatched, but well looked after.

The bright blue on Gon’s is even more distracting.

He can feel Kurapika watching him – observant as always.  He’s finished with his own tea; starting to replace his precious collection safely onto the shelves.  He’s methodical as always, and Gon knows not to ask to help.  There are few things Kurapika is truly protective of, but his books are paramount.

“I’m not going to ask; but I want you to tell me.”

It’s the first thing that’s broken the silence since Gon’s strained huffs of exertion.  Kurapika’s patient and Gon knows he’s not leaving without an explanation.  He watches the fading steam rising from his cup; and his friend waits in near silence – the rhythmic melody of his work punctuating the seconds.

There’s a lot to say.

He just doesn’t know how to say it.

His tea is gone; he hadn’t even noticed drinking it, really, but the warmth in his stomach feels like its spawned new butterflies.  This isn’t like him.

“It’s about Killua.”  It feels like a whisper, but he knows it’s not.

There’s a hum, like Kurapika knew, like it’s obvious.

He really hopes it isn’t.

“Did something happen?”  He hasn’t taken his eyes off the stack of books in front of him, but Gon feels the stare in his bones nonetheless.  “Last night.”

“Yes,” hands wrapping around the empty crockery.  Willing some lingering warmth to his fingertips.

There’s another heavy silence, Gon not sure how he should continue.  They can hear Leorio stumble out of his upstairs, late again for his afternoon shift.  It seems like it’s about to turn awkward, the two just sitting in silence; but Gon knows Kurapika would never let him off that easily.

“Are you going to keep going, or should I guess?”  Hand slipping long hair behind an ear – still not looking at his guest, not wanting to apply too much pressure.  Could read Gon as easily as the dozens of books around the room, but didn’t want to force it out.

“That much was obvious, Gon.  You’re not exactly subtle at the best of times; today is no exception.”

He laughs a little at that; maybe a bit oblivious to no one but himself.  He’s thankful to Kurapika.  He’s done a lot for Gon – always has – and until today, he hadn’t quite realised the enormity of his trust in his older neighbour.

It makes it a little easier.

“Killua kissed me last night, as he was leaving.”  Eyes to the ceiling; knowing they don’t need eye contact for Kurapika to believe him.

“And?”

“And I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I’m not even going to ask whether that’s a good or bad thing; your face makes it pretty easy to figure it out.”  Gon groaning in response, hand to his eyes.

“I’m not sure I can stay professional, Kurapika.  But I also don’t want to leave – either of them.”  Kurapika’s finished with his current shelf, smiling at his handwork or Gon’s confession, he can’t tell.  “They need me.”

“I agree.”

“You do?”

“They need you, Gon.  Both of them.” Dusting off the next shelf in preparation to work.  He turns his head to Gon – the first time since the bookcase found its new home – and his eyes are round and scarlet.  Beautiful, like the other times he’s caught a glimpse of them.  But now, with their attention focused on him, straight on, Gon hopes he’ll never forget it.

“They need your specific brand of happiness, Gon; just like I did.”

They don’t talk about how they met; it isn’t necessary.  The shadows have mostly cleared now.

They’ve reached a sort of understanding – Gon always feels himself thinking more around Kurapika; and the good influence has made the fascination with cloud-silver hair and cornflower eyes seem a lot more obvious.  Has made the acceptance of that a lot easier.

Kurapika’s sitting on his heels, knees folded beneath him.  Looking like he’s waiting for Gon to say something.

So he does.

“Thanks, Kurapika.  Next time, we talk about _you_ , and being obvious.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to update! Please forgive me.
> 
> Lots of Kurapika this chapter, very little Killua. Next time our deuteragonist returns, I promise!
> 
> My tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com. Feel free to leave me a message; hearing from you lovely people is the best sort of motivation!


	9. Chapter 9

There's a light rain falling outside when the glass doors slide open – his shoes squeak on the marble floors, and the warm yellow of the overhead lights cast sunny shadows.

He's dressed in something comfortable, like always; but he does admit it took him a little longer in front of his mirror than usual. He's a bit of a lost cause though, he thinks.

It doesn't seem to have been worth the worry either way, as the apartment's eerily quiet once he reaches it. There's no sign of the older Zoldyck, and Zilsa seems to be asleep in his room. He's no earlier or later than usual, and the way the elevator doors click quietly behind him breaks the rolling silence.

He wonders if something went horribly wrong yesterday, or last night. Something so wrong that no one contacted him not to come.

Or maybe that Killua was avoiding him now. It curdled the liquids in the pit of his stomach at the thought, heavy and slimy.  
He had to stop jumping to conclusions.

He opens the bright blue door softly, peering in and seeing the familiar head of white hair nestled amongst his sheets. Gon releases a breath he didn't realise he was holding, and continues into the room.

He kneels down, and watches how the sheets move slightly under hot exhales, The soft curl of white hair against large cheeks, completely at rest. He reaches a hand out to brush against the small shoulder, and with a quiet voice tries to rouse the sleeping boy.

“Zilsa, it's morning. Time to wake up...” All he gets in response is a sleepy huff, and the crinkle of the tiny nose. Bright green eyes stickily opening, hazier than usual.

Maybe it's a trick of the light, but something seems off.  
A little too warm, a little too bright, wet.

Which is confirmed when the little boy groans and vomits, making a mess across his bedsheets, his floor. Gon just rubbing a soothing hand onto his back, sitting him up and wiping his face with a clean patch of the bedsheet once he's done. He's pretty familiar with kids being sick, and the fever he feels under his fingertips is fairly typical for young kids, He's not too worried, but he makes sure to call Killua as soon as possible, to let him know.

He picks up the groggy kindergartener, feels the tears sinking into his shoulder as he carries him to the bathroom.

“Hey, hey. What's wrong? What hurts?”

“Messy.”

A quiet shush at that, squeezing out a damp cloth to clean the young boy up. “Don't worry about that, it's easy to clean,” smiling softly, hoping to stop the fresh batch of tears. “But you need to tell me what hurts, OK? Your tummy?”

There's a shake of the head, ending in a groan. “Here,” eyes scrunching together as he whimpers a little.

Gon nods in understanding, resting a hand on the little boy's face, making sure he's paying attention.

“I'm going to be right back, OK? Just one minute.”

He quickly fetches a clean pair of pyjamas from the bedroom, before detouring to the kitchen. It takes a minute before he realises he has no idea whether the Zoldycks keep their medicines, or if they have any at all. Maybe they had private doctors?

He's a little bit lost until he remembers the written number by the phone; Killua's sister, if he remembers right. She'd probably know.

He returns to the bathroom, and helps Zilsa into new pyjamas. Carrying the little boy out again and onto the couch. He's bundled in a soft blanket, before being left to doze to the sounds of morning cartoons. A large hand brushing back the soft fringe, out of his eyes, before going to use the telephone.

The phone rings twice before anyone picks up; the young woman's voice on the other end a little out of breath, like she had run to answer it.

He explained the situation as best he could, and within minutes had been assured she'd be right over. She hangs up quickly.

Realising he probably shouldn't greet a family member of his employer (and maybe something else?) in a shirt smeared in sick and tears, he grabs the nearest shirt from the laundry and changes – right in time for the elevator door to reopen, presenting Alluka.

She's tall and thin – even moreso than her brother – with dark ebony hair, halfway down her back. She's carrying a large bag with her, full of things for Zilsa, he assumes. She introduces herself politely, before rushing over to the couch, checking on her nephew.

She's quietly talking, too low for Gon to hear from the kitchen, and only catches the end of the conversation when he walks over to Zilsa's room.

“...not feeling too good?”

He's certain he can leave the two to their own devices, and prepares to clean the bedclothes and rug beside Zilsa's bed. He'll also have to make sure his own shirt gets a wash with the sheets and the dirty pyjamas. Hardening residue where he'd had Zilsa close; he didn't mind, but didn't want to smell too awful when talking to Killua's sister. First impressions, and all that.  Probably important. 

He makes quick work of stripping the bed, and soon enough all that's left of the wet mess on the floor is a lingering smell – coffee grounds and bicarb left to absorb what they could before he vacuums. 

He runs the washing machine soon afterwards, and takes a minute to check everything's done, cleaning-wise. The fabric of the borrowed shirt stretched around his arms, and he worried about completely stretching the garment out. Blue and soft, a tickle of something familiar in the smell. He'd done laundry on Friday, but he didn't remember this particular shirt – well, at least, he didn't think so.

 

* * *

 

He makes oatmeal for Zilsa to eat once he wakes, sweetened with honey. He's been in and out of sleep since this morning and Alluka gave him some liquid medicine when she'd arrived.

She had sat and read him stories for a little while, singing him to sleep. Only leaving his side when she was certain he was completely asleep. She called her brother despite Gon's insistence that he do it, waving him off and telling him it was fine – if Killua tried to come home early, no one could calm him, or assure him as easily as she.  It only too ten minutes, and frankly, Gon was surprised.

That's maybe why he didn't really expect the conversation.

“It's nice to meet you,” she started with. Eyes bright, blue like her brother's; coloured lips, curled into a sweet smile. “Killua doesn't tell me much about what's going on in his life, so I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself sooner.”

“Don't worry about it, I've only been here a week. I'm sorry for bothering you with this.”

“Only a week?” Eyebrows high, surprised. Gon wasn't quite sure why. “I'm surprised he leaves you alone with Zilsa. He must really trust you.”

That's a bit confusing.

“Well, it is my job,” a little laugh, punctuating.

There's a long stretch of silence, before Alluka chokes a little on the tea she's made herself. Bright red blush, once she gets her breath back.

“S-so you're the ...”

“Nanny, I guess. I look after Zilsa during the day.”

That seems to get her even more confused; although the blush hasn't left.

“But... but why are you wearing my brother's sleep shirt then?”

It takes a second for that to register – the softness of being well-worn, fresh from Killua this morning.

The smell.

Sweet and tempting.

Killua.

...

Oh.

He's probably been staring a little agape for far too long, and Alluka seems to realise her mistake.  
(Which isn't quite a mistake, probably.)

“O-oh! I'm sorry, I thought... maybe... Killua was, uh. Seeing you.” Flustered as she was, flustered as he was. Both red from blush.

“This was... I didn't realise. I needed something clean after carrying Zilsa to the bathroom.”

“I-I see.” Awkward, unsure. She was more than a little embarrassed.

Gon really liked her; earnest and kind, and the kind of person who sings for sick children. She reminds him of her brother, aside from very little in common of features. It reassures him.

“You're not," not quite sure if what he was going to say would actually be correct.  "You're not wrong, exactly.”

Her smile was so bright at that, it felt like the missing sunshine from the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone!  
> New characters, new developments. I hope it was worth the wait!
> 
> My tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumbr.com, fell free to drop by any time - my inbox is always open.


	10. Chapter 10

Zilsa sleeps most the day; only waking when Gon rouses him for some food, and to take some more medicine. He carries the small boy to his freshly made bed – tucking him in tightly and rechecking his temperature. His fever's been down for a few hours now, and he can tell that the little guy just needs rest rather than a doctor – typical for young kids, nothing to worry about.  
  
Alluka spends the rest of the day with Gon, helping him prepare dinner for Killua and checking on Zilsa too from time to time – but moreso than that, she talks with him.  
  
She's very interested; in what he does, how he feels about her brother. There's not much to say though, nothing quite having happened yet. Instead they talk about the Zoldycks, the family – why Killua had dismissed his previous butler, why he hired Gon.  
  
He's learnt a few things now.  
  
Firstly, that Killua is the named heir, despite having older brothers. Neither of them have a problem with him taking over the business – actively encourage it, it seems – but Killua has no interest in that.  
  
He also learns that Zilsa will be home-schooled as of next year; rather than attending the elite private school that is his family's Alma Mater.  
  
Killua was married for 3 years, it seems, before his wife died. Alluka liked her a lot. She sniffles when she talks about her – _Selene_.  
  
And that Killua only has one photograph of her out, in his study. Alluka's never seen the door open, never even seen inside the room, but she knows without a doubt that that's where it is – he wouldn't be afraid to go in there otherwise.  
  
He's a little surprised by some things, less surprised by others, and they all tangle up together. When Alluka started getting vague, she starts talking about herself – about how Killua had secretly funded her hormone therapy during their teen years, how he'd given her her apartment after he found out about their parents keeping her confined, how Alluka had been his Best Woman at his wedding after the rest of the family refused to attend – a hundred small moments that glow warmly in the afternoon. Tea and biscuits and emotions aplenty. Alluka is very sweet, a little lonely, and Gon's unsurprised that she and Killua are family.  
  
They're both soft, they're both sad.  
And they're both beautiful.  
  
When Killua returns at 6 from work, like every night, he's a mess. Around the eyes, his whole spirit – everything seems to be a little disjointed. No light, no warmth.  
  
He sits on the couch, briefcase dropped, and just sits with his eyes closed. Alluka joins him, hand on his shoulder, whisper in his ear. Gon stays where he is – this is not his place. She lets him sit for just a moment more, before pulling him up, letting him into his son's room.  
  
There are muffled murmurs, not exactly quiet behind the door. Gon's not sure what to do with himself – to maybe leave before bothering his employer, wait another day before talking about Saturday; before talking about them.  
  
Because right now Killua needs Zilsa, Zilsa needs Killua, and Gon can't interfere – shouldn't interfere.  
  
But before he can go, before he slips away, leaving a warm meal and a clean apartment, feeling absolutely useless, Alluka returns – hand on his shoulder, like she had done with her brother; whisper in his ear, again, close and familiar.  
  
“ _Stay with him._ ”  
  
And that's all he needed.  
  
For tonight. For the future. For himself.  
  


* * *

  
He goes into the small room with the blue door, bedside light low, rug freshly cleaned and sheets freshly changed. Killua's sitting on the floor, head by his son's, white hair bright against the blue pillowcase. Zilsa's sleeping soundly – he doesn't look feverish anymore, and his breathing is steady and even; won't realise how worried his father is, so helplessly protective.  
  
There's a dozen things Gon could say, but he won't. Instead, he joins Killua on the floor, head on the mattress – hand reaching out to Killua's, cold and pale white.  
  
“He's going to be OK.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“I didn't even realise... I had to leave early for a board meeting, and _I didn't even realise_ ,” There's sorrow in his tone, unsteadiness in his breath. “I left him alone.”  
  
“You left him with me,” hand brushing the soft hair at the nape of his neck, watching the goosebumps rise against soft skin, “and he's going to be OK.”  
  
Killua's face turns towards him, eyes red and teary, a weary smile on his face.  
  
“He's going to be OK.”  
  
And all of a sudden, Gon knows they aren't talking about Zilsa anymore.   
  
He leans in, close, and then they're sharing breath. Kissing slow and soft, the taste of sadness and happiness and a whole lot of hope. A bit more solid than their brief brush of lips from the other night – but Gon's a lot more prepared know. Isn't caught off guard.  
  
He breaks away, back to look at Killua again. The redness of his ears; the cornflower blue of his eyes; a hint of a smile.  
He's lucky to be this close to something so beautiful. So special.  
  
“Yeah, he is. I know it.”  
  


* * *

  
There's an unsteadiness in his shoulders, trembling as they stand outside the study.  
  
Gon's not quite sure why they're here, but he knows it's important. There are things he doesn't know about Killua; things he could never learn from anyone else but the man himself, and he thinks that this is maybe a critical point for them.  
  
The doorknob is shaking slightly in Killua's uncertainness, and Gon can feel it down to his bones. A subtle fear he can't quite place.  
  
“You don't have to show me, not if you don't want to, not right now.” He can see the way that shoots down Killua's spine, shaking his head. Holding his hand tighter.  
  
“I do want to. This is important, because you're important. It's just hard.”  
  
It's an honest admission, and Gon can feel the way that _you're important_ makes his blood pump hard in his ears. He smiles even though Killua can't see it.  
  
“Take it slow. I'm with you.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
The door seems like it should be stuck on it's hinges with disuse; but it swings open with ease, opening up a musty study. Books in shelves, stately desk at the window, dark paint on the walls.  
  
And on the desk, aside a simple lamp, was a photograph. Slightly dusty, solitary.  
  
A couple, dressed in contrast – white hair in a black suit, black hair in a dress of pure white; and both with smiles on their faces.  
Their wedding day, happy.  
  
Killua and Selene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! A quick update!  
> Thank you all so much for your support and kind comments and messages - I really appreciate them!'
> 
> My tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com, and my inbox is always open; feel free to drop by, if you like.


	11. Chapter 11

Gon can feel the breath leave Killua's body much more than he can hear it, standing together in the doorway. The air is musty and everything in sight is covered in a thin layer of dust. He can see motes drift in the air at the unexpected movement, and soft rain hits the window. Killua seems transfixed; and all Gon can do is stand strong behind him – neither pushing or pulling.  
  
It starts slowly, the first steps into the room tentative, but soon enough they speed up – quickly diminishing the space between himself and the desk. Gon hangs back a little, unsure of his own place her in this room. It's not completely quiet – but the mood is soft, reflective. There's a distinct air of reverence, and it takes a second for Gon to realise how hesitantly pale fingers are reaching for the silver of the photo frame.  
  
Even from this distance, five steps behind Killua, Gon can tell they're a beautiful couple. Green eyes bright, matching smiles. Fingers wipe the dust from the glass, and his own mouth quirks up – the faintest hint of a smile.  
  
“It's been a long time.”  
  
Gon knows he isn't the one being addressed; merely a stranger looking in to the reunion. Killua sits himself on the edge of his desk and just sighs. He's smiling, but it's not altogether there. There's sadness in his eyes, and it distorts the colours there; breath quickening, but heavier.  
  
It takes a minute, but he lifts his head to Gon, inviting him to sit. Eyes welling up, there's no tears falling, but it's a close thing. Deep breaths trying to even out his sudden spike of distress. Gon sits himself next to the other young man – hand moving to cover cold fingers, pale.  
  
“Tell me about her.”  
  
“I don't know where to start; there's so much to say.”  
  
He looks like he's made of glass; fragile, easily broken in this state – and Gon's afraid to touch him too roughly.  
  
“You don't have to tell me everything. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to.”  
  
The sigh drags long; Killua rocking back as his legs stretch out. “It's not that; I just don't know how to talk about her after so long.”  
  
There's maybe more that he wants to say, bubbling beneath the surface. A thousand moments clashing – too many to count. Each as important as the other. An impossible task to narrow down. It's evident everything's still raw, healing, inside Killua. Too many broken parts neglected for so long.  
  
“Well, how about at the beginning – where did you two meet?” And the way Killua hummed at that, he seemed to agree.  
  
“At university. She was majoring in journalism, and wanted to write a piece about me. Something about inheriting family business.”  
  
“You don't seem the type to agree to something like that.”  
  
“Not anymore, no.” There's a hint of a smile now, but a wrinkle in his brow. “But back then, if it was good publicity for the family, I was obliged to.”  
  
“So what happened?” He feels like it should be easier this way; with him asking questions, rather than Killua having to dredge them up himself. Less strain.  
  
“Nothing much; I can barely remember it, to be honest. But I do remember she made me laugh.” His eyes are trained to the ceiling now, looking farther than Gon can see. “For the first time in years. Her laughter was infectious, maybe that's why.”  
  
It's obvious there's a lot more that he's not saying. Something private that Gon doesn't want to press – that he doesn't need to know. If Killua want's him to know, he'll tell him. But even if he doesn't, that's fine too.  
  
“My family didn't approve at all. It was the first time I'd ever truly gone against them – and it was the best decision I had ever made,” fingers touching her face lightly, lingering. “She was so vibrant; a real people person. So different from myself.”  
  
The rain is still a steady drum against the window, large behind them. Moonlight cutting through the clouds sporadically, highlighting the snowy softness of Killua's hair. Throwing long shadows across the room.  
  
“We got married as soon as we'd graduated – eloped to Dolpeka and just kept traveling from there.”  
  
“Alluka said you were gone for a while.”  
  
“Nearly two years, just after Zilsa was born.”  
  
“Why did you come back?” It seems unusual, considering.  
  
“Alluka, mostly. She'd been confined by the family again and wasn't doing well.”  
  
“But you two got her out.”  
  
Killua smiles, softly; eyes cast to the floor, now. “Yeah; she stayed with us for a couple months after – she had Zilsa's room, she's the one who painted the door blue. That's the first thing she did, actually. Said the apartment was too white otherwise.”  
  
Gon laughs quietly at that; glad to hear that. It was short-lived, but genuine; drifting off before Killua continued.  
  
“We were only here for six months before...”  
  
The trailing is obvious. More isn't needed.  
  
“Has Alluka told you anything?”  
  
“Not about this, no.”  
  
Killua squeezes Gon's hand back – a slow interlace of their fingers. Soft, rough, a tactile bond.  
  
“They deemed it an accident, but I know it wasn't. It was all my fault.”  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“Car collision, they sped through a red light. Hit the passenger side; crushed the car completely.”   
  
“That doesn't sound like your fault.”  
  
“It wasn't just that... here,” lifting up the hem of his shirt, the puckered scarring on his abdomen raised against smooth muscle. “One shot, narrowly missing anything vital. Selene, she. She wasn't so lucky.” It takes a moment for Killua to continue. He looks like he's drowning; being smothered by the air in his throat. “Two shots, point blank to the head. She didn't have a chance.”  
  
Gon can't feel himself breathe; doesn't quite know if he is. It takes a moment before he can feel anything else but the gentle holding of their hands – the solid wood supporting them.  
  
“I still don't quite know who's responsible – whether it was business rivals, or my family. Either way, it never would have happened if she'd never met me.”  
  
He's crying now, unbidden. Tears leaving shining tracks down blotched skin, gasping breaths choking his words.  
  
“She deserved so much better than this – than me.”  
  
And Gon can't help but reach out; hug the shaking frame close as he sheds his own tears, thin arms snaking their way around him too, in turn.  
  
It's like watching a glass overflow – so much sadness spilling into the room. The pressure of years of guilt washing through the air, the atmosphere, to join the steady patter of rain outside.  
  
The two young men sat, close, hugging warm as things spiraled out. Shoulders soaked from tears. A seemingly bottomless well, too deep to dive through tonight.  
  
At least now, Gon thought, Killua wouldn't have to alone.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading!
> 
> I'm so sorry this took so long to get finished - I actually lost the entire thing and had to rewrite the whole thing!  
> In any case, I hope it was worth the wait.
> 
> And happy birthday to Killua! It's a little bit amazing I've been writing about these two for over a year now! !
> 
> If you'd like to leave me a message, my tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com - feel free to drop by!


	12. Chapter 12

The moon is high in the sky when Gon finally leaves, one last check-in with Zilsa before he gets in the suite’s elevator. The skin beneath Killua’s eyes are puffy and pink, the only sign of his earlier bout of crying, and he holds Gon’s gaze – and his hand – for far longer than usual. Gon brushes a kiss to his cheek – barely there, watching another shade of pink bloom beneath his lips – before wishing him good night; that he’ll be back tomorrow. A promise that has potential for routine.

The trip home is quiet; white noise buzzing in his head. The steady hum of the bus lulling him into the moment as he takes the time to mill over the day's events. The lingering warmth of Killua's skin against his shoulder, beneath his hands. He doesn't quite know what to do with all this new information; but ultimately, it doesn't matter. If Killua needs him to be there, he will be.

Not just because his smile sends sparks through his blood, or that his laugh reminds him of cozy rooms and shared secrets – that everything Killua does makes Gon glad to have met him. No, he wants to be there for Killua because the Zoldyck heir needed a friend more than anything; Killua so desperately lonely, and guilty, that he barely realised how sad he was. Gon wanted to be his friend, wanted Killua as a friend.

His best friend.

The jolt from the sudden stop at his destination breaks him back into the present, and it takes him a moment to realise the driver had remembered his stop. He smiles to the man behind the wheel as he departs, and gets a sympathetic ' _one of those nights, eh?_ ' along with a wave. The night outside is still, silent, and warm despite the earlier rain; and the bus continues on it's way. Puddles splash underfoot, water splashing to his ankles when he doesn't pay attention.

There’s a lone light from Kurapika’s window – dim flicker of candles, rather than anything electric – but the rest of the units are dark. A flute plays faintly in the distance, although it's faint enough on the breeze to almost be lost. He stops momentarily to listen, and the tune reminds him of the past. The moon above is round and full; and Gon hadn’t noticed before, when it had been obstructed by the rain clouds. With the skies clear, the stars spill across the sky, and every constellation seems vibrant against the inky blue. The cool light of the moon reflecting off the world doused in rain.

A beautiful night to mourn.

He trips over one of his smaller pot plants; the ceramic clattering as it's abruptly moved. It's light enough to see, but it's a testament at just how tired Gon feels when he struggles to get the key within the lock. His shoes are clumsily stepped out of in the doorway, and Gon collapses to the couch as soon as he reaches it; doesn't want to make the trip upstairs. It's the second time in three days that he's felt like this, but it isn't exactly unwelcome. His energy is gone – he’s drained, but he's happy.

And right away, he sleeps.

 

* * *

 

There are cooking smells wafting from his kitchen as he wakes; shoulders and neck sore from the awkward angle he slept in. There are soft footsteps moving around, and slippered feet poke into view as he cracks his eyes open. White, with blue checks. Gon groans into a stretch, and Kurapika hands him a cup of coffee as he finishes pouring; sympathetic smile his way of greeting good morning. Plate of scrambled eggs set down on the low coffee table.

“You got home late.” It was a statement, no more, but Gon can tell Kurapika's curious. His own under-eyes dark from the lack of sleep.

It says something that they're both drinking coffee – neither of them readily choosing to do so, usually. There have only been two times in the past that they have, and neither are particularly happy memories.

“You heard me come home?”

“I heard you stumble over your own doorstep at some ridiculous time last night; so yes, I heard you come home.”

Gon sips at his mug, wincing at the bitter taste of unsweetened coffee and the heat on his tongue. His avoidance not quite going as well as he could wish.

“Sorry.”

“It's OK, I wasn't sleeping anyway.”

Gon already knows this; and he's pretty sure Kurapika also knows he knows. He grins a little when his friend looks to him knowingly – tired-looking, but with his own grin – and snorts a little in laughter.

Kurapika plops himself down in the free space of the sofa next to Gon, and drops his head back; muffled chuckle as he settles in, his own coffee steaming, strong.

“Is there a reason you got home after 11?”

“Zilsa was sick. Killua needed help.”

Kurapika sits up straight at that. “Is he OK?” Eyes wide, concerned.

“I had to look after Killua more than his son, it turned out,” Kurapika a little placated at that. “I learnt a lot.”

Kurapika swirls the last dregs of coffee from his mug, waiting for whatever Gon isn't telling him; a silent urge for him to continue.

“About his wife.”

Kurapika exhales slowly, eyes flickering up to Gon's face. Watching him carefully, the clicking cog-work of his mind milling over this new information; taking note of how Gon was reacting.

“I guess we both had a rough night, huh?”

The thread-worn fabric of his sofa shifts under Gon as he sidles a little closer to Kurapika. Old memories float to the front to his mind, and he's surprised he was so preoccupied that he'd forgotten. Full moons and murmured prayers; how quickly the years pass.

“How long has it been now?”

“Ten years,” empty mug placed down on the wood of the table. “I never thought the time would pass like this; the good and the bad. I never thought I could be happy again.”

Gon can believe thiat. Can remember that awful spiral his friend was stuck in; a lack of grieving that stewed for years – got stuck in anger and hadn't moved on. It was different from Killua, who had just refused to confront anything. Had numbed himself, whilst blaming himself, still.

“It's because of you, you know. You have this way of bringing hope to people you meet, Gon; you always have.” Looking at him, sincere.

“I'm just happy you seem to have found someone who makes you as happy as you make them.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

As soon as Kurapika leaves – off to get ready for work – Gon takes a shower to boost his energy a little. The pipes rattle a little as the water pressure adjusts, but he finds the clatter of metal strangely soothing. His towels need to be changed and laundered, but he hasn't had the time to, with so many early mornings, and such a busy weekend. He laughs a little to himself when he thinks of how many washing loads he's done for the Zoldycks, and it's surprising how happy he is to do it. Palm would skin him if she knew how slack he was being with regards to his own upkeep, but it's been more rewarding, lightening the load off Killua's shoulders – in this small regard, at least.

He manages to catch an earlier bus, commuters not quite having left for work yet, and the traffic passes quietly. His watch is telling him he's going to be a half-hour early, but Gon really doesn't mind. Can't wait to check on the father-son pair.

The shower is running when he arrives at the apartment, and rather than just sit awkwardly waiting for Killua to realise his arrival, he starts the fancy coffee machine on the kitchen counter – going to check on the younger Zoldyck whilst it warms up.

Zilsa's still asleep, but it's still a little early for him to be up yet. The angry red flush of fever had completely left sometime in the night, and his breathing was soft and even. He chances a touch to his forehead just to confirm it; brushing back soft white fringe with the tips of his fingers. He can hear a soft humming from the bathroom, and bites back a smile at that – ruffling the little boy's head a little more as he quietly mumbles, “Your dad is really full of surprises, huh?”

He's finishing up a cup of coffee for Killua by the time he leaves the bedroom – thin fingers looping his tie into a respectable knot. He seems shocked that Gon's arrived so early but just watches as he stirs another spoonful of sugar into the mug.

“I didn't know you were a singer.” Slanted smirk as he taps the spoon.

“I'm a man of many talents, Gon.” His own smirk curling at the lip. “I thought you knew that.”

He's surprised Killua's handling it so well – not embarrassed like he had expected – and can't stop the stare when the other's smirk falls into a genuine smile, hands curling across the ceramic mug as he picks it up and takes a drink. “Thanks for the coffee.”

There's a minute where neither knows what to say after that – paused in time as the coffee steam swirls between them, milk at the corner of Killua's mouth. Gon steps a little closer, blue eyes slowly shuttering as he does, and he has a growing urge to kiss the other man. Leaning in to do just that, both jump a little at the still-sleepy call of “Daddy” from Zilsa's room; quiet bubble broken as both men hurry to the blue-doored bedroom.

Killua seems much better than the night before, shoulders relaxed and his whole demeanor more rested. Gentle good mornings are exchanged, and Killua kneels to hug the kindergartener close. Gon just waves from the door when Zilsa spots him; big grin and wave the enthusiastic answer back.

“I'm going to be going to work soon, but I'm coming home earlier today.” The way that news lit the small face up was magical. Gon couldn't help they way he felt his heart tighten a little at their interaction. Wanted to keep the little boy that happy for as long as he could. Deserved to be happy.

“Are you feeling better?” The little head nods furiously at that, and Killua has to laugh – hand squeezing little shoulder. “Make sure to thank Gon and Auntie Alluka for taking such good care of you yesterday too, buddy.”

“You don't need to do that; I'm just glad you're not sick anymore,” Gon finds himself protesting from the doorway. 

Helping Zilsa out of bed, Killua lets the little boy out to the bathroom – socked feet padding lightly against the hardwood floors. Sitting back on his feet, he just sighs. Watching the bathroom door click, Gon turns back to his friend once it does.

“And how about you, Mr. Zoldyck? How are you feeling today?”

“Better than I have in years if I'm being honest,” shoulders slumping as he shifts to stand up. Grabbing Gon's proffered hand. “I can't remember the last time I've slept so well.”

“I'm glad, Killua. Truly.”

“Me too.”

And rather than let his supporting hand go, Killua pulls him in. Head tilting as he leans in for a kiss, Gon can't help the smile on his lips as he does. Hopes Killua can feel it too. He hasn't been keeping count of them all, but this is his favourite one yet – with nothing but butterflies and happiness bubbling in his mind; the taste of milk and sugar still on Killua's tongue.

It can't have been very long that they're lip-locked, because Zilsa's still brushing his teeth once they part, but the world seems to have spun a little faster for them – pink and blue and white and brown and black.

“I am going to be back earlier today, just so you know; but feel free to stay longer, if you're able. There's something I want to ask you.”

“Of course.” Killua just smiles when Gon replies and heads to the hallway – time to leave for work, just like every other morning. Sticking his head through the bathroom doorway, the sound of a running tap echoes off the tiles.

“I'm going to work, kiddo; I'll be home soon. I love you.”  
  


* * *

  
After being cooped up all of yesterday, Gon asks if Zilsa'd like to go to the park. The little boy's so excited he nearly trips in his rush to get dressed, and Gon is leaping to catch him before he's even realised he's done it. Sharing a laugh at his over-reaction, the kindergartener promises to be careful running with his socks on, walking the rest of the way to his room. Gon packs a lunch of grapes and sandwiches, sports bottle filled with water, in his bag. He calls Alluka to ask if she'd like to join them, but she politely declines – she has a lunch date – although she did talk to Zilsa on the phone for a good ten minutes.

It's a beautiful day: sunshine, and just enough breeze to stop it from being too hot out. There are a couple kids and their mothers playing amongst the equipment of the playground, children's laughter coming from all directions as they weave and run together. Gon holds the tiny hand as they get closer, but he can feel the trepidation and nervousness from the little boy as they make their way to the edge of the sandy area.

He crouches down to eye level, bag shifting from the movement. “Do you want to play with those kids?”

“I dunno.” Green eyes are looking to the ground, digging a little into the dirt with the toe of his shoe.

“I think you should; it would be nice if you could make some friends.”

Eyes snap up at that, a little bewildered. “You really think I can?”

“Of course. I'm sure all these kids here want to be your friend.”

He looks to the slide longingly, and with a little push of encouragement at his back goes running to the small group of kids. Gon stays in his crouch a little longer and just watches the little boy join in with the game – can't help the happy pride at how different Zilsa is becoming compared to the lonely little boy he was when they first met. He wants this for him; wants him to grow up in the best way possible.

He moves to the shallow slope a few meters away from the playground and sits; just revelling in the moment – the beautiful day and everything that had happened so far.

He's paying such close attention to Zilsa at the top of the slide, he jumps a little when his name is being called from behind him. Turning, he spots Kurapika waving, heading closer.

“I didn't expect to see you here.”

“I thought Zilsa would have fun on the playground after being sick yesterday; I'd see it on the bus route on the way home, so I knew the way.”

“The library is just over there; it's my lunch break right now. Care if I join you?”

Patting the ground beside him Gon knows his friend is probably grateful for the company; turning to wave at Zilsa, Kurapika does the same from his spot. Zilsa waves back with both arms and runs the short distance to where the two men are sitting.

“Good morning Zilsa, I'm glad to hear you're feeling better,” the blond smiling as Zilsa plops himself next to Gon. “You having fun?”

“Yeah! Raff caught a grasshopper!” Pointing to a short redhead with clasped hands pressed to his chest.

“That's exciting. Make sure that he lets it go, though.” Zilsa nods to Gon's friend and runs back to relay the message to the other young boy. The four of them watch as the insect leaps out of small hands, a little whoop of amazement from the two boys. Once they watch the grand release, they run off to the swings together – Zilsa smiling the entire way, no trace of sickness anywhere in his system.

The breeze picks up slightly, and Gon stretches his legs out from their crossed position. Kurapika pulls out his lunch from the bag at his side and rummages around for the fork before settling back a little.

“I've decided to tell him today.”

“Leorio?” Plastic lid opened, the smell of basil drifting.

“Yeah. It feels right, now. Like I can make something change, rather than just watch it happen around me.”

Gon kind of understands what he means, and he's glad Kurapika's finally decided to act on feelings that have been growing and squashed and simmering for years. “I could wish you luck, but you don't need it.”

“I'm not so sure about that.” Small smile at Gon before he turns back to his lunch.

“I am. I'm not as dumb as I look, y'know.” Cheeky smile as he nudges Kurapika's side, childlike. Brown eyes close as he smiles back, blond hair swaying slightly in the wind.

“You're not dumb at all, Gon; I've always known that.”

Zilsa's laughing as he swings high, arcing up like he wants to lift into the sky. A bird starts singing from one of the large trees behind them, and the mixing of the two reminds Gon of his childhood.

Kurapika just watches quietly, reminiscing on things not so similar and not so different.

Change is in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another new chapter!! And although this fic has been a joy to write, the end is near; hopefully all you kind readers stick with me til then!
> 
> As always, you can find me on my tumblr as compulsive-bibliotaph!


	14. Chapter 14

Zilsa tells him all about the few children he met at the park throughout their walk back to the empty apartment, face alight in happiness. He's pulling on Gon's hand a little, swinging their arms as he recounts the trip – voice hopeful and animated, excited. Skipping a little over the pavement, white hair bouncing to tickle against Gon's forearm. Free hand moving to hide the little giggle at the kindergartener's enthusiasm; the other, squeezing a little tighter around Zilsa's.

Kurapika hadn't stayed long – returning to work as soon as his meal was done – but he had made sure to wish them a safe trip home, smiling to Zilsa in his gentle way. They hadn't stayed much longer after that, the other children being called home for the afternoon by their mothers.

The trip home wasn't long, but Gon had brought them around the long way, letting Zilsa enjoy the beautiful weather outside his apartment. Walking past a cafe, bustling in the early afternoon rush, the drifting smell of chocolate seems to have Zilsa rooted to the spot. Eyes wide as he stops talking, he looks to Gon with such pure pleading want that the young man is taken aback.

Zilsa's always been eager to try and experience new things, but this is the first time he's so adamantly _wanted_ something. Asking without saying a word. The way the green in his eyes glitters as the seconds pass only pulls at Gon's heart more; he was already wanting to treat the little boy, but the determination in the young Zoldyck's stare is the first time he's been so pointedly obvious about something.

The entrance bell above the door behind them rings out, pretty jangle mirroring the pure joy radiating from the little boy when Gon nods his allowance; lining up behind a half-dozen students and office workers looking for their caffeine fix. Zilsa draws close to the large display case, swirled chocolate and cream capturing his attention immediately. There are dozens of pastries behind the glass, and bright green eyes are reflected back from them all. Gon can't help but chuckle when he has to call Zilsa's name more than once to catch his attention again. He lets the little boy pick out one of the larger chocolate desserts, and gets a small fruit tart himself. Ushering the young Zoldyck to a table next to the large windowed front, Gon pushes in his chair as the five-year-old sits.

Ice tea arrives at the table from a friendly waitress; Zilsa adjusting to sit on his knees in order to reach his straw. Ice rattles in the glass as he moves the flexible plastic around, and the Gon chews the end of his own straw as he watches. Someone passes by outside, shadow flitting across their table, and a small dog seems to have caught Zilsa's attention.

“What's school like?”

The question comes completely unannounced, and Gon has to stop himself from choking a little on his drink. Spluttering into his hand, he can feel sharp eyes on him.

“I'm not really the best person to ask, Zilsa; we didn't have a school where I grew up.”

“None at all?” He seems a little shocked at that, eyes darting back to look at Gon. “How did you learn?”

“There weren't many kids in my hometown; we had correspondence classes instead of going to school every day.”

Zilsa's brow was creased a little, confused at just what Gon meant – the nanny realising he'd need to elaborate. “It means they sent the school work to me, to do at home.”

“Daddy wants to home-school me.” His eyes are drawn down to his lap now, drink forgotten, green eyes hidden from sight.

“I know he does, your Aunt told me. But you don't seem like you want to?”

The small fluffy head just nods minutely, not sure whether he'll get in trouble for voicing his preference. “I wanna go to school.”

Both the young Zoldyck and his nanny jump a little when their sweets arrive unexpectedly, waitress delivering them with a smile. The tension and weight of the situation seems broken, but the way small hands fiddle with the small fork makes it obvious that the topic is still fresh in Zilsa's mind. Rather than shovelling the chocolatey, creamy cake into his eager mouth like he had seemed to want to when they had entered – instead, picking at the biscuit crust quietly; their eye-contact from before gone now.

Gon's about to say something, to encourage a continuation of the conversation from the five-year-old, but Zilsa beats him to it.

“I wanna make more friends.”

His voice is quiet in comparison to the busy atmosphere of the cafe, but Gon's able to focus despite that. He tries to catch green eyes as they slide back to his drink, but it takes a moment of embarrassed blushing and heavy blinking before he's willing to meet Gon's gaze again. As soon as he does though, Gon makes sure to smile softly, hoping to ease the small boy a little. Wants him to know that he's interested in what he was going to say. That he agrees with the sentiment that he should go to school.

“I think that's great, Zilsa,” watching the small bowed lips curl into a smile at Gon's words. “You need to tell your Dad that, though.”

“He doesn't think it's safe.” Legs shifting beneath himself as he starts poking at the chocolate dessert. “He doesn't want me to get kidnapped like him.”

Gon's not sure he can feel the amount of shock that hits his body at the easy way the kindergartener says that – sharing the fact so easily – and it stills his every movement.

Green eyes sparkle as the first bite of chocolate dream weighs heavy on his spoon – sugar and cocoa and cream topped high as they disappear into his small mouth.

The ice in his tea has melted.

 

* * *

 

Its still early afternoon when Gon and Zilsa arrive home, the afternoon still warm and shining brightly through the glass windows of the apartment. Bright sunshine bounces off the clean lines and immaculate surfaces of the living room – golden light scattered across the floor in a thousand shards of the day. Small feet wander to his room as they arrive, and Gon tries to busy himself with washing up the few dishes left in the sink; overhears the shuffling and happy chattering from the little boy in the other room. He doesn't think there's many things that could still shock him after all this time, after everyone he's known, but it makes a sickening kind of sense now that Gon knows this piece of Killua's life – makes the over-protectiveness ring louder, with a obvious clarity.

The elevator door dings quietly before he realises it; hands still buried in soap suds, and Zilsa still hidden away in his room. The quiet sigh from Killua as he arrives setting his nerves alight.

“I'm home”

That gets frantic footsteps rushing to the door, excited cries and laughter tackling the tall frame as the young Zoldyck hugs himself against his father's legs. Blue door swung open, the young boy's room in casual disarray. Strong arms lift him high, into a proper hug, and he can see the way the smaller head of fluffy hair burrows himself into Killua's embrace.

“Welcome back; I can make something to eat, if you're hungry.” Gon wants to get a lttle closer than he is, but doesn't want to intrude on the father and son; doesn't want to seem too different now that he unwittingly knows a little more about the lithe man with brilliant blue eyes. Even when those eyes are cutting to him – focused on Gon's reactions and mannerisms. It isn't fair.

He wants to kiss him.

Zilsa is back on the floor, now, dragging his dad by the leg of his pants towards his room – sharing something quiet that Gon has no clue about. He can hear the low mumble of whispers – but the running tap, the return to cleaning – swallows the few words he can overhear.

It takes a minute before either leave the bedroom, beautiful smiles on both faces, and Zilsa trots to the space in front of the television; markers and pencils now scattered across the coffee table.

Pale hands pick up the dish cloth hanging on the stainless steel handle above the sink, reaching for the clean dishes sitting in the drainer waiting to dry. Rolled sleeve of the button-down bumping against Gon's elbow as they work. He can feel the softness of Killua's entire being radiating by his side, and he can't help feeling a little at ease. Easy to forget how many things he doesn't know about the older Zoldyck, when they're just like this, together in the moment.

 

*

 

They're back in the study; less imposing, less sacred then the last time Gon had wandered in. It makes him happy to see the layer of dust that had previously covered the room, Killua's memories, has been wiped away. The glossy shine of the wood desk caramel against the afternoon sun.

They're sitting against the lip together, side-by-side. It's been quiet for a while now, but there's nothing awkward about it. Eyes closed, he loves the feel of the atmosphere, bubbling them up in their own little world.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Only if I can ask you something first.”

He can feel the slight stillness of his friend, and it's a moment too long before Killua hums in question – allowing Gon to go ahead.

“Is there a reason you don't want Zilsa to go to school?” If Killua had been still before, now every movement was frozen – stopped at a molecular level. “Something to do with his safety?”

There's a roll of Killua's shoulders as he seems to settle a little less comfortably against the desk; Gon second-guessing his question.

“I didn't... I don't really know how to explain.”

“Simple's OK. I don't need the whole story; not now, at least.” Blue eyes widen for a moment, electric and focused. Gon can feel the way it zips down his spine, raw and true.

There's too much time between the question and when Killua opens his mouth again it seems like an eternity has past. Like the answer is inconsequential, despite what he's learnt.

“My family hasn't always been in big business; or at least, not legitimately. It's a front for their real profession, and it means things have been dangerous for anyone with the Zoldyck name.”

“Real profession?”

“Assassination.” Simple and to the point, so much so that Gon's not sure he can trust what he's heard. Takes a second to recover.

“You kill people?”

“I used to, before I cleaned up the company and made it legitimate. Used to be best in the business, actually.” Thousands of scars and a broken sort of smile seems to make more sense now; context the best explanation.

“But even though that was the past, the people trying to kill me – trying to get revenge – don't seem to stop. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to Zilsa; and he doesn't have the family training like the rest of us,” eyes trained to the sky, slowly blinking as the news settles. “I wanted him to have a more normal life than I ever did.”

The sun's at their back, the drifting motes swirling beautifully despite everything being said. Shoulders bumping, soft huff of an exhale.

His wife's murder, the uncertainty about the Zoldycks and their involvement.

And it occurs to him that maybe none of that actually matters to him like it should. That the shocking news that the family he's been working for are trained assassins is less shocking than it deserves be.

All he knows is that he's in love. With the little boy full of hopes and happiness – soft fluffy hair and bright eyes a carbon copy of his father; and Killua, who had given him something he hadn't realised he was missing. Genuine and honest and courageous in more ways than Gon can even comprehend.

And their tiny family of two, living amongst the clouds of the high-rise apartment.

“What did you want to ask me?”

“I don't think I should; it seems like a stupid idea now.” Eyes back on the ground now, hands curling a little into themselves.

“I want to hear it.” Smiling, eyes closed. “Nothing's changed.” He's shifted his hand to cup the other's – interlacing their fingers as they sit.

The time moves slower, like it always seems to recently. There's something in the air, and it feels easy to fall into.

“I wanted to ask, uh, if you wanted to stay.” Red slowly rising up his neck. “Full time. Here.”

“For Zilsa?”  
  
“That's the excuse.”

He can't help the laugh that brings up; likes the way it seems to put the tenseness in Killua's shoulders to rest. The way the taller man seems to crumple in relief against him.

A small face peeks in from the doorway – pale features plain against the dark wood of the door, body hidden from where the two men are sitting.

“Gon's coming to stay?”

Killua doesn't answer, doesn't presume anything, even though it should be obvious. It _is_ obvious to Gon.

So rather than say anything, he just opens his arms; encouraging the little boy to hug him close.

And the tiny family of two grows, just a little.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there everyone, thanks for reading!
> 
> This is the last proper chapter, the next is an epilogue, so I hope you like it. This fic has certainly come a long way since it's humble beginnings as an inbox prompt, and I thank you all for following it up until now!
> 
> My tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph; feel free to drop by.


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten years later

He wakes up to the sound of bacon popping in a pan, radio warbling a tune, and the shower running. The bright green dial of the digital clock on the side table informs him that it's close to 8:00am, and rather than just roll over and fall back to sleep like he wants to, he should really get up for work.

There're hurried footsteps heading down the hall, and he opens the bedroom door just in time to see a fluffy white head disappear into another room.

“You're going to be late,” calling through the door, knocking once before heading towards the stairs.

“No I won't.” It's an almost practised line nowadays, the conversation having been done a thousand times by now.

Gon can feel himself smile, and he makes his way down towards the delicious smell in the kitchen. The table is set for three, silverware sparkling thanks to the new dishwasher just installed. Gon heads towards the fridge, pulling out juice and water, seeing the steaming cup of coffee already half-empty on the table.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” the last pieces of bacon being lifted to the plates beside the stove-top. The small kitchenette in their unit has never allowed for a lot of work room, but practice has made things easy. “Can you take these to the table? I need to finish getting ready.” The pan's promptly placed in the sink before the other leaves, and Gon's left with the task of ferrying the three plates laden with food to the other side of the room.

Gon's pouring orange juice in two glasses just as a piece of toast is snatched up in front of him. Heavily buttered and laden with bacon, one hand is holding his toast as the other struggles around in the bag slung over his shoulder. Chewing heavily, it's a moment before he's free to speak.

“Where's Dad?” Zilsa seating himself as he continues to rummage through his things. “You and he need to sign this form for parent-teacher interviews.”

“Other room. Trying to figure out what tie to wear, I think. Do you need this done now?”

“No, just whenever,” shrugging as he hands over the paper to Gon. “They don't start til next week, but make sure you're both free.”

The younger Zoldyck has almost finished his meal, gulping down his drink as he starts to stand; green eyes flickering to the clock – 8:10. Only fifteen, but he's already hitting his growth spurt – just a few inches shorter than Gon is, now. Right on time there's a knock on the door, Kurapika opening it.

“Final call for that ride.” Hands rattling car keys in emphasis, blond hair swaying a little with the movement.  
  
“See you later, Gon,” the teen heading towards their neighbour; stopping at the bottom of the stairs. “Bye Dad, I'm leaving for school.”

It takes a moment, but Killua's at the top of the stairs, hands adjusting a tie just as Gon knew he would be.

“Study hard and have fun.” Coming down the stairs to see his son off; green eyes rolling at the expected response.

“It's _school_ , fun doesn't exist.” Doesn't understand the shared smirk between his Dad and Gon.

“Yeah, yeah. Go on, don't be late.”

Zilsa disappears through the door towards Kurapika's car, the same as every morning in recent memory. His high school isn't far, but it's more reassuring to Killua if he doesn't walk there.

“Thanks as always, Kurapika. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. Zilsa's a good conversationalist.”

“ _That's_ where he's getting all his smarts from; God knows it's not from either of us.” Playful laughter as Gon nods furiously in agreement. Kurapika chuckles as well, hand going up to hook blond hair behind his ear.

“I don't know about that, but he is a smart kid, that's for sure.” Looking to his watch, eyebrows shooting up a little. “Alright, I better go. If either of you see Leorio coming back from his shift before you leave, can you tell him I've left soup on the stove. There's a note, but he never reads them.”

“Will do.” Waving as the blond leaves, blue eyes watching as the small car pulls out of the drive – it's been years since Killua's expected something bad to happen, for some sort of horrible not-accident to occur, but it's become habit. Shutting the door as he watches them head down the street, he's met with Gon, smiling wide from his place at the table.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“ _What?_ ”

He gives a shake of his head in response, humming a little. “We have to sign this for Zilsa; parent teacher interviews.” Brown eyes warm and happy.

“OK?” Can't quite see the appeal of having an extended conversation with Zilsa's teachers; especially his history teacher Zushi Alongi, who may or may not be dating Alluka at present – results of sending her as a guardian to Zilsa's last parent-teacher interviews.

“It's just nice that he thinks of me as a parent.”

Killua hadn't been expecting that, especially as it was pretty obvious that Zilsa adored Gon – always had. He sits next to the other man, finally getting to the breakfast he'd made earlier, and looks him in the eye.

“You are his parent, Gon. No question about it.” Drinking down the last of his coffee. “He loves you; _I_ love you. We wouldn't be in this tiny unit with only one bathroom if it wasn't worth it.”

“Sorry about the bathroom.” Sheepish laugh as Gon scratches his head, like he realises he's been an idiot, blush creeping under dark skin.

“Don't be.”

They eat in a comfortable silence, hands brushing every so often. Gon gets up once to relay Kurapika's message as he hears Leorio stumble to the neighbouring unit – returning with more coffee. Killua doesn't have any meetings scheduled until eleven, and Gon's job as a local ranger doesn't start until ten. The have the best part of an hour left together, and so they decide to unhurriedly enjoy it.

It's only later, when the sun is higher, and Gon's about to head out for work himself, that Killua decides to voice what he's been thinking – all morning, and for a long time before that too. Kissing him goodbye, he grabs his hand before the other can retract too quickly and miss the moment.

“Gon, I've trusted you with our lives for ten years now,” still a little amazed at how quickly the time's passed – but it makes sense considering the common saying about time and fun. Brown eyes are wide too, like he hadn't realised the passing decade either. Killua can't help his smile. “And without a doubt, it's one of the greatest decisions I've ever made.”

The blush has returned with a vengeance, dark cheeks and ears burning as Gon just blinks at Killua. Mouth flapping a little as if trying to figure out something to say. Rather than let him, he just kisses him again – softer than before – and pulls back, letting go of the hand still held in his.

“Don't be late getting home, I think Palm wants to make dinner for everyone.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/WritingGee)!


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